


New times and old news.

by YertzNilo357



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-12 22:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20163982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YertzNilo357/pseuds/YertzNilo357
Summary: No one really believed the War had ended. They spoke about the future and sang songs about the heroes who had fought back the Dark. But they knew it was not over and that regardless of what they dreamed and what they wished, the Dark was always moving forward, inexorably. So they reached and held onto the bright glimpse of the future and what was to come.And all voices, as one, whispered, "Harry Potter."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I intend this to be a multi chapter, hopefully reasonably serious story. Though it's just as likely I'll stop it or start writing crappy song lyrics. Enjoy!

_July 31st , 9:50pm._

Crush had been a guard at Gringotts before Albus Dumbledore had even been a twinkle in his Father’s eye, or at least he claimed it to his wife, 130 years deceased. And for that matter, any goblin who asked! Of course, considering he had been born in 1631, the veracity of his claim was difficult to dispute. Whilst goblins were long-lived, a tidy age of 360 was very much outside the norm.

_Oh, rocks don’t age or wear away,_

_BUT YOU DO, BUT YOU DO!!_

_Gems and diamonds are forever,_

_SO ARE YOU, SO ARE YOU!!_

_Aged and chiselled, pale as marble_

_YOU SHOULD GO IN THE SUN, BECCAAAAUUUUUUUSSSEEEE_

_YOU’RE 360 TOOOOODAAAAAAYYYYYY!!_

Of course, even at 360, Crush still loved the silly birthday songs, as was goblin tradition. He’d heard 360 songs and was steadfast that he remembered every single one. Even the one from his first birthday.

Even if he sometimes struggled to recall whether he had pants on or not.

_360……… TOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY_

The surrounding goblins, all clapped and whooped and cheered, his great, great, great, great grandson Griphook, crying, holding his own great great granddaughter, Primrose. Crush looked around and smiled, surrounded by his friends, his family, and their families. He wished this moment would last forever.

He knew it wouldn’t.

Crush stood up and raised his hands, requesting silence. It was a sign of the immense esteem he was held in that they all went silent within five minutes. Even the English _quarklich_, Quartz had to wait for half an hour most times, as goblins were notoriously unruly; at least among their own kind.

“Dear and esteemed friends and colleagues, I am so deeply appreciative of you all finding it in your hearts to warm mine own by coming to celebrate this, mine own 360th day of birth. Thank you to Drakon, whom has come from his own Kingdom in Mozambique to celebrate this day. I met you first in 1789, as a young springling and you have grown and matured so greatly, it amazes me. You were truly and simply an amazing _greidstroy, _for the young ones whom do not understand Middle Gobbledegook, a son in law. You have raised your children and my descendants, my family, with such dignity, it honours me so deeply and profoundly. For that, please accept my honour.”

Crush bowed deeply, ignoring the twinge in his back. His granddaughter Twinkle helped him back up, crying, as was the Goblin King.

"To my family, whom have done nothing but bring me the joy and blessings of your existence on this, our Mother Earth, I love and honour you all."

He bowed again, tears running slowly down his cheeks. He did not like seeing his family cry so.

“All here today, you are all members of our nation. You are all carriers of the Goblin spirit. You are all inheritors of what our past and the progenitors of our future. So for my final speech, let me say: remember to maintain what we have as individuals and as a people. Remember to keep striving for peace and unity, regardless of whom you may stand across from. Strive to understand and comprehend those with whom this world is shared. Know that together, all must work, to achieve and obtain the equality desired. With that, I thank you for tonight. I have my final shift. I hope you all enjoy this life Grurg has blessed us with. Good evening.”

Crush calmly stepped down from the podium and walked slowly to the door, to the confusion of the surrounding goblins.

“Ganpa Cus, are goin’,” said little Gemmy, the 1,221st child born into his extended family, daughter of Milly and Tunnas.

Never one to ignore his family, he bent down and said, “Yes, sweet one. I must take my rounds and check the seventh level Vaults.” He straightened and looked at the surrounding crowd. “Please forgive my rudeness. You all know I hate to miss a shift!”

At that, the throng laughed, all aware of his legendary work ethic.

“Aye, ya saved us all from a brutally boring eight hour speech.”

“Aye, though ya record was only a measly 11 hours,” cried Dust and Dirt, the twin Towers of the East.

Crush smiled and waved to the crowd, leaving them to their revelry. It went without saying no-one saw the twins grab their wives hands and start to fight back tears; no-one noticed Drakon sitting, smiling forlornly and holding the ring of his deceased wife, which Crush had made for her to give to him.

It was a theme throughout the Hall, which those older and closer to him knew and understood. But for tonight, for his final wish, they would bless this Hall with the joy he so desperately and passionately championed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Crush walked slowly around the seventh level of Gringotts. He’d first become a guard in around 1870 or so. Or had it been later?

It didn’t really matter, he mused, not jumping at the flash of fire in front of him.

“Ah, Fawkes, a pleasure to see you, friend. Is that letter for me, from Albus? Oh, more than one. Allow me to relieve your burden.”

Fawkes trilled and disappeared, leaving Crush holding a bundle of letters.

“Hmm, let’s see. Albus, of course, Minerva, Augusta, Filius, Bathilda, James, even Severus! Oh my, how delightful! And even from Alastor, that barmy coot. My, what a pleasure. What a pleasure.”

He kept walking and finally strolled up to the Vault that had first made him join Gringotts, lifting up the last letter he had received. “Ah, Nicholas and Perenelle, of course you write in damn purple ink!”

Crush threw back his head and laughed, laughed loudly and deeply.

“I remember when I first met Albus and Nicholas. Old Nick was the first Being I met older than I!! My, even elves view me as an old soul! Him and that cocksure young Albus, with that scoundrel Gellert. All so…. Energetic and eager. Lacking maturity. Haha. Ah Nick and Penny, just awoken from their deep sleep; Albus and Gellert, so in love, yet so opposed. Did you know that the Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t made until 1824? That his and her 600 year plus age was due to a failed experiment by Nick?”

The silence was oppressive and almost perturbed. Still, Crush continued.

“Excuse my phrasing, I sometimes struggle with my syntax and lexicology. I am quite old. Haha. Ah yes, I am. He failed first try and the resultant backlash placed him and Penny in a stasis. Until I found them, when I myself was a young 113. I was the sole survivor of a battle with the Giants of Bath, struggling to walk and breathe, when I stumbled upon an old, destroyed stone house. Droll and convenient, I know. I entered for shelter and first thing I did? Would you like to guess? No? Well, I tripped over Nick’s frozen foot and knocked myself out!! Imagine that! The Hero of Dunning Hill, knocked loopy because I failed to check my feet!! Even more ludicrous, it managed to wake the duffer up! Yes, I brought a failed magically induced sleep to an end, because I was a clumsy groundling.”

Crush leant back and smiled softly.

“I would love to meet them again. Meet them all. I imagine I will at least catch up with some old friends soon. At least I hope so.”

The once General of the United Goblin army stood up slowly and dusted himself off. He looked at the dark and said, “Friends, you don’t have to hide. Please, there is no need to hide in the dark, like the rats you are.”

In unison, the wizards slowly lowered the Masking spells and walked forward.

“How could you t”-

“I’ve lived my life under ground and I have walked these halls thousands upon thousands of times. The air was more displaced than usual, suggesting the presence of extra individuals. Where you are standing is much too dark for this time. And quite simply, I can smell a Death Eater from the surface of Mother Earth. You stink of pleasure in pain and of the must of wrongful deaths. You smell of Dark, Cold, Black magic and it sickens me. Your very magic betrays you, _friends._”

Crush slowly straightened up and lifted his club; the small, 20cm club used to test for hollows in the walls of Gringotts.

“In this Vault, is the greatest treasure of the man I awakened due to mine own clumsiness. It is a demonic, destructive, beautiful Gift of Earth and of Blood. It is the Philosopher’s Stone. Ah, you seem shocked. It seemed you were not informed of the enormity of your target. And obviously, I will never let you lay your filthy hands on what is in Vault 713. Do not fear, take solace that whilst most of you are about to die, you at least will end my life. Well, with that, let me say: _gretzstuy kytzdio dtygua.”_

Crush shifted his stance, tensed his muscles and his eyes lit up, with the lust for battle.

And collectively, the Death Eaters started to shake.

“Yes, _gretzstuy kytzdio dtygua. _In English, for you trash, ‘May you find no peace in Death’. Now, come!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Crush lay down, bleeding profusely from a hole in his stomach. He slowly slid, through the blood and brains of his defeated enemies and leant back on the Vault.

“Hmm, I got five out of nine. I am very much, much too old. Much too old. Do you not agree, _Brythgru, _Parasite.”

A man with a turban slowly walked towards him, strolling through the gore with no regard for his fallen followers. He knelt in front of Crush, his back facing him. As he unwound the turban and the face of the Dark lord was revealed to Crush, he smirked and laughed.

“Ah, how apt that you are a shade. A creature devoid of warmth deserves the fate of a tapeworm, as Augusta would say.”

“Hmm, I am quite unimpressive, am I not? A shadow of my former glory. How humiliating and how disappointing for me. You agree, do you not, dear friend? Ah yes, you, who ensured the destruction of my so very, very critical alliance with the Fractured Stones. Crus-_pleasehelpheskillinmeithur- _Crush, as you can see, sharing a body with another lifeform is not overly accommodating. Even worse, he can’t barely speak correctly. It’s truly disgusting.”

“And it is what you deserve, Parasite.”

“Most likely. Most likely. Still, I ask you-_kilhimkilllmee- _dear Crush, would you pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty….._pretty please _allow me in the Vault.”

“You’re Mother fucks the dogs of Hell and your Father is the slave of the God of Wind, aimless and pointless,” snarled Crush, spitting blood in the face of Voldemort. “Die and burn a thousand times. I know I am to die and I know I am to suffer the ignominy of defeat by you. I know I am to become the twisted vessel for your abhorrent and evil perversion of immortality. So burn, trash. Use me to split yourself asunder and to latch yourself upon another trinket. I accept this sufferance and know my fate. I live to tell _you: _the Philosopher’s Stone will heal your soul, will restore your life and return the humanity you have lost. But you will never get it whilst I and my soul guard this Vault.”

The shade of the Dark Lord tilted his head, and frowned.

“I must say, you are a singularly unpleasant chap. Well, quite frankly….I didn’t expect to succeed here. I mainly wanted to gain revenge on you. And knowing Professor Dumbledore-_illtellhimhelllstopyoumonste- _he will move the _Stone, my right, _to the one place he trusts more than anything, anyplace or anyone: Hogwarts. Now, stop looking so defiant. It irks me endlessly when victims like you try to act defiant.”

Crush stayed in front of the monster, even as he was slowly stripped, as he was carved into, as he was slowly, surely divided and destroyed. He uttered not a sound and he didn’t ever flinch.

His last thought before the green light enveloped him, was that he would finally meet his love again.

It was to his horror, he could not.


	2. Beginning

_August 16th, _ _The 254th Annual Meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards_

Albus Dumbledore observed his fellow representatives, smiling serenely. He was humming quietly and lightly tapping his foot, seemingly unfocused on what the Namibian representative was saying. The less experienced in the room either took no notice of him, disregarded him or occasionally whispered to their fellows, making jokes at his expense. After all, he was a humming old coot, of no real character. Those more experienced, who knew more of his history, took note of every minute change in expression, every move he made and even anytime he yawned. They knew he was one of the most powerful magic users in the room, designated Magus, the highest tier recognised by the ICW. As such, they were careful to watch his every move and instructed their associates to do the same.

It goes without saying that Dumbledore was merely a decoy, to an extent. Those in the room who knew him personally, had worked with him and were knowledgeable of the inner workings of him mind, were fairly certain he was lending some focus to what was being said and much more to how he would structure the Hogwarts courses for the upcoming year. If he had one weakness, it was that he was not the best at forward planning the Hogwarts' curriculum. As such, they made sure to focus more on the other representatives in the room, confident that observing Albus was pointless. He would do what he wanted to anyway, so trying to preempt him was a pointless endeavour. 

The few people in the room who were his friends made sure to watch every move one Kingsley Shacklebolt made, the one for whom Albus was the decoy. It was seemingly odd that most people would ignore the powerful wizard, himself the head of the Manticore Division, the most elite of the British Aurors. However, most people were not sitting next to someone regarded as the most accomplished wizard since Paracelsus. This combined with his own experience at blending in with a crowd, a result of his training, allowed Kingsley to observe and consider the rest of the room, perfectly aware of the few eyes on him. No one focuses on the sidekick.

_"Changeling, report," _he transferred.

_"Yes, acknowledged. The representative of the Congo is tapping his fingers on his chair. In my view, he's utilising a code form to communicate with his assistants. Based off the positioning..."_

_"Apologies; interruption from Twister. The Mexican representative is communicating via the same code, chair tapping. Relevance could be mentioned in regards to previous reported sighting of Naguals in Namibia, attacking farm stock. Could imply that there is collusion between two countries, though still only in consideration stage."_

_"Yes, acknowledged. Congo representative is communicating with Mexican representative, possibly as an ally to possible Namibian-Congolese war upcoming. Good pick up, Twister. Any other observations?"_ Kingsley transferred.

_"Yes, acknowledged; Jackrabbit. American junior representative is doing a word find with Russian junior representative; based off close proximity and contact, are likely to engage in relations at a later date. Will be kept under observation for future reference."_

_"Yes, acknowledged; Blue eyes. Will organise a Chameleon to follow them. Anything else to report? Any eyes on the French representatives?"_

_"Yes, acknowledged; Changeling. No action from the French representative, at this time. Main concern at this point seems to be the possible Congolese-Mexican alliance. The Namibian representative is about to finish; will shut down M.C.D for the moment."_

"--at that, my fellow delegates, I ask: for what alternative could there be to the obvious attempt by the Congo to destroy the Namibian homeland? They desire our resources and our natural lands. Please, we ask again: what else could cause this destruction in our homeland?"

The uproar that followed was largely for show. The Congolese representative loudly denied the claims; the Mexican representative sat with pointed disinterest, ignoring the tumult. In moments like this, the most information could be gleaned from who was doing nothing of interest or ignoring their surroundings.

Kingsley looked around the room and saw.

_"Yes, acknowledged; Swan. Please take care to observe the representative from Egypt. I am of the belief she is very possibly involved in this matter."_

The Egyptian representative had merely yawned but it was too natural to be anything but an act. 

"Well, I must say, what a hubbub, hm?" said a quiet voice, right next to Kingsley's left ear. His lack of reaction belied his shock at not noticing the speaker; it also told a tale that he noticed Albus himself twitch imperceptibly, suggesting he had not noticed the intruder. Casually, he turned and faced them. He didn't bother schooling the disgust that crossed his face.

Gellert von Uttendorf was an incredibly handsome man. He had bright blue eyes and dark hair, almost jet black. This contrasted pleasantly with his pale skin; furthermore, he was tall and solidly built, easily as tall as Kingsley himself. His robes were tailored perfectly to his form, fitting like a glove. He was the current head of security for the Germanic representative contingent to ICW and was rumoured to be the next Head of National Security for Germany. 

He was also, confirmed by the Order but suggested through rumour by the native population, a high ranking member of the Knights of Grindelwald, a virulently anti-Muggle death squad. He was also incredibly talented, easily a match for Kingsley himself. 

"Uttendorf. I hope you're better than normal," said Kingsley, pointedly refusing the use of his first name and his noble lineage. 

"I hope you yourself are surviving, _du schwarzes tier,_" replied Uttendorf, smiling with relish. 

Kingsley calmly ignored the insult and rolled his shoulders, signalling for Robards to definitely not attack Uttendorf. Apart from the undoubted international incident attacking the German Head of Security would cause, the loss of Robards would be catastrophic. He was a fantastic Auror; but he was no match for this creature. 

"So, Shackleybolty, do you think the Congo approached the beans or do you think the Mexicans approached the monkeys; I am so very curious as to what you think. Oh! Maybe the Egyptians set this all up themselves. They are a sneaky people. Lots of the impure there," Uttendorf said softly, just for Kingsley and Albus to hear. "Pease, tell me what you think, animal?"

"I am deeply sorry, Uttendorf, but I don't know what you mean," Kingsley calmly replied, casually smiling. "I'm really just here to act as a representative for England. What do _you_ mean, by the way?"

When Kingsley was younger, he had been told by his mother to "Ignore the taunts, ignore the threats and see the truth behind their mask. It tells you what you need to know." It was brilliant advice, as he calmly observed how this creature looking at him was about to break his facade. Kingsley started to ready himself, hoping for the attack so he could end Uttendorf for goo--

"Gelly, my chap, how are you!?" cried out Sirius Black, Head of the House of Black and leader of the Black-Potter-Longbottom triad. Leaning forward, he slapped Gellert heartily on the back and said, "It's been years, mate! Last time me met was when.... ahah! When I beat you on 12 seconds in the European Dueling League. Remember that? Huh? Do you remember? When I beat you? In 12 seconds? You were the favourite and you lost in the first round. To me. Yeah, you might have forgotten." Sirius laughed again, slapping Uttendorf on the back, harder than strictly necessary.

"......Herr Black. I must leave," said the creature, stiffly standing up and moving back to his seat. Apart from the attention that Sirius had drawn, it was clear a break in proceedings was to occur. However, he did stop and turn. "Herr Dumbledore, condolences for your friend Crush."

...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Shock ran through Albus; age and experience was the only thing that stopped him expressing his distress for the room to see. He could feel his eyes start to moisten, his lips start to curl down; it was to his gratitude that Sirius grabbed him in a massive hug and cried, "Headmaster, it's been too long! Come, let's go get something to eat! You too, Shackles! Minase-san, you keen? Didn't think so. How about you? Nah? OK!"

Bodily pulling Albus up, Sirius strolled to the doors, seemingly oblivious to the eyes pointedly ignoring their exit. Turning right as soon as they exited the Room, he lead Kingsley and Albus down the Hall, occasionally winking and chatting to the servers and staff who maintained the ICW Headquarters. 

"Tell me, darling, where is the English rest hall? This way, right?"

"Yes, Master Black."

"Perfect. Thank you," said Sirius, casually flicking her a Galleon. "Make sure there are no interruptions, please."

He practically dragged Albus into the room and forced him into a chair, while Kingsley moved to set up drinks. Robards managed to slip in just before the door closed, red in the face and furious.

"I swear on my Wand, I will kill that arrogant German cunt! How dare he say that to you Kingsley? How fucking dare he?! I promise, I'l-" 

"Shut up Robs. Uttendorf is a demon. He'd kill you with same thought he'd give to drowning a kitten, which really wouldn't be that much," interrupted Sirius, casually stopping the upcoming tirade. "Out of us in this room, only Albus and Kingsley could beat him, and then only Albus is the guaranteed victory. Possibly. And before you start, yes, I beat him in a duel, when I was an Auror and he was in his sixth year at Durmstrang. He's a psycho but he's a ridiculously talented psycho. Now, Albus, did you know that Crush was dead?"

The difference between the student Sirius had been and the man he had become was a truly remarkable thing. 

Albus sighed and softly said, "No, I didn't know. My last contact with him was on his birthday, on July 31st. He usually spends a month composing letters before he sends them, so I didn't expect a repy at least until early to mid-September. Is that why you're here, Sirius? You try and avoid these filibusters, do you not?"

Sirius sighed and sat down. He drank deeply from his tumbler, wincing slightly at the taste. 

"Yes. I found out yesterday. Gemcutter informed me and shared some memories with me. He was surrounded by the bodies of nine known Dark-aligned Wizards," he said, taking a deep breath and settling himself before he continued, "Albus, he had been mutilated. Carved to pieces. He had Runes sliced into him and, from what Gemcutter could glean, his corpse had been used as the basis for a particularly Dark Ritual. Based of what Pandora told me, it was a Soul-based Dark Ritual." Sirius stood up and then walked to the fireplace. He poured himself another glass and downed it in one. 

The amber liquid sloshed in the decanter; Sirius' hand was shaking uncontrollably.

"Do you think it's for a Horcrux? Is he back?" 

Robards quickly leapt up from his seat and threw up in the bin. Kingsley swallowed deeply but he paled dramatically. Sirius was twitching, in involuntary excitement, as he always did when particularly Dark Rituals were referenced. Magical Blood had deep roots and his affinity for the Dark, stemming from his Black ancestry, was immense. It showed his character that he could resist the urges. He quickly grabbed the decanter and drank from it, forgoing his glass entirely. No one in the room judged him. 

Robards threw up again.

"I do not believe it is a Horcrux, Sirius. I am no expert but mutilation of the physical form is not necessary for the ritual, from what I've read. In fact, it can weaken the Soul's link to the body, thus making it harder to capture for the Horcrux ritual. Do you have details of the Runes?" Dumbledore replied, leaning forward, distressed but in control. 

"I have a Pensive quality Memory from Gemcutter, plus had it confirmed by two other sources. I can give it to you now."

"I fear that if I view it now, I won't be able to return to the summit. Please, we'll wait to after."

Albus stood up and sighed. 

"But I can say, that it is very likely this is Voldemort's work, Sirius. Join us in the summit, be merry, make some jokes. And tonight, return to England and reconvene the Order. I don't believe he is back in the flesh, so to speak, but he has certainly returned."

Albus turned, sharply. 

"Robards, take this note and go to Gringotts. It will allow you to remove the package in Vault 713. Take it to Hogwarts. Put it in the care of Minerva NOW!"

Robards quickly stumbled forward and grabbed the note. Grabbing Floo Powder, threw it in the fireplace and shouted "Diagon Alley."

A heavy silence filled the void left by his departure. 

"To answer the question you both must want to ask, Crush worked at Gringotts for one reason; to protect the treasure in Vault 713. He was most honoured of all goblins, yet he never left his post. Why is that, you must ask? Simple. It holds the single greatest creation of my teacher and partner, Nicholas Flamel."

Realisation dawned on the faces of Sirius and Kingsley. Sirius drank again, somehow even deeper. Kingsley leaned forward and groaned softly, holding his face in his hands. He was almost crying.

"Voldemort has learnt that Gringotts holds the Philosopher's Stone. I believe he means to take it and, most likely, use it."  


Sirius stumbled forward and collapsed in a chair, looking at the ceiling. He was breathing heavily but evenly; running his fingers through his hair, he slowly sat up and looked at Dumbledore.

"You're going to hide it at Hogwarts, aren't you? That's why Robards is taking it there, correct?"

"Yes."

"That's a fucking terrible plan, Albus. Fucking terrible. Not only are you placing the children in danger, you're also placing the teachers in danger. Who do you think his followers will assume are the ones who know the location of the Stone? Sir fucking Cadogan? The Tickled Pear? Sven the Troll? Furthermore, if you're found out, which is damn likely, your career is almost as good as done. You accept this? You understand this?" Sirius demanded, not shouting, but speaking with authority.

"Yes, I do," Albus replied, holding Sirius' gaze firmly.

"Good. It's a fucking terrible plan but it is better than keeping it in Gringotts. For all we know, that Ritual was designed to break the wards around the Vault. Hell, Robards could find a damn lemon or a little Voldemort statue pointing and laughing at him. Gringotts has been compromised. If you are found out due to your own stupidity, Albus, you will officially not have my support in the Wizengamot and not even your position as a previous Chief Warlock will help you."

Sirius walked forward and then winked. 

"Of course, unofficially, how many Galleons and informants?"

Kingsley started to laugh quietly, now openly crying, but still smiling. Even Sirius' bravado did a poor job of hiding his fear. 

Albus smiled.

"Thank you both. Come. Let us finish these bottles. Hopefully it'll dull our senses enough to find the remainder of this Summit mildly amusing."

Quietly, Kingsley said, "It will definitely make it easier for Sirius to be merry."

They all laughed, happy for at least some levity. 


	3. Plan

_August 22nd 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Office of Severus Snape**

Severus Snape leant back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes. Magic was fascinating. It was full of mystery and wonder. With it, you could ignore or manipulate the foundations of the world; what Muggles would regard as fundamental rules. Defying gravity was simple, transforming and altering the chemical or biological composition of an object was basic. Arms and legs could be regrown, under certain conditions and it was even possible to alter one's own appearance instantly. 

Magic was fascinating and wonderful and, most of all, mysterious. 

Only one thing, in Severus' mind was a greater mystery: how year after year, students were still incompetent fools. It was a miracle, a phenomenon unexplained and inexplicable. The number of times he had read the answer to "What stone, that cures all poisons, is found in the stomach of a goat?" and it had not been a BEZOAR still left him slightly flabbergasted and annoyed. Even worse, the amount of times the answer given had been "Rock" was ridiculous. Granted, this question was generally given to students yet to start Hogwarts and taking the Academic Competency Testing to determine their comparative level; however, the answer was, quite literally, on the second page.

As he had written the current textbook, he knew this. The second page, seemingly a mysterious land unbeknownst to the students intending to enter Hogwarts or, for that matter, any school in England. Even some in America and Australia. Yet somehow, this piece of information was forever beyond the grasp of these children. Possibly he had made the language on the first page too complex. He had utilised at least three compound sentences; he had even used a compound-complex sentence. Clearly he needed to revise the book and write only in the simplest language. 

"_Potions are dangerous. This is a safety list. Young students make mistakes. Potions can quickly become unstable. That can make them poisonous. Bezoars work on all basic and most complex poisons. This is why it is on the second page. When you idiots mangle your attempt. You know a bezoar will work. You or your partner can then get one during class. Or when you experiment outside the classroom._"

Yes, he had made sure to start his book off with specific guidelines regarding the most effective way to counteract poisons and a full, step-by-step breakdown of proper procedure. The amount of first year students who had been harmed or permanently maimed, some even killed, due to poor Potion Safety Procedure was historically excessive. That was why he _wrote a damn safety manual in his damn book._

Another favourite of his was when the answer to "Gloves and goggles are not mandatory protective equipment for preparing a Potion. TRUE or FALSE" was TRUE. Granted, he had phrased the statement in a manner slightly sneaky. But really. 40% of children answering true could not be blamed on poor reading comprehension. It was mind-boggling in a way not even the some greatest minds in Magical history could explain. He knew this, as he had once asked Albus and once asked Master Li Xia.

They had both looked at him and shrugged. Albus had even scratched the back of his head. It was ridiculous.

Severus sighed once again and leant forward, continuing his work. He slowly started to frown and tilted his head. Generally, one of the key philosophies behind ACT was to assist Muggleborn and more economically disadvantaged, including Pureblood, students to gain knowledge or at least experience the education system provided by Magical Britain. Assisting Muggleborn students, a practice first started by Minister Northumberland Caveantas Smythe, was, simply put, probably one of the greatest things done and mandated by a Minister in the last 284 years. It had been a fantastic way of assisting these students in gaining a fundamental grasp of the basic operation of the Magical world and allowed them time to accept reality: they were Magical and thus could use Magic. Additionally, it provided basic knowledge about the five key Magical subjects. A result of this was that even though many of these students were given experience, they still lacked a general understanding of the material. Thus, they generally scored reasonably well to fairly low, which was understandable,

Provided you weren't a fucking Yaxley or his ilk, whom still decried the century old system.

_"Severus, it's an animal. It's a parasite. You know it deserves this. Help it. Cleanse it."_

God damn psycho. Shaking his head, Severus shunted the memory back, blocking it away in his Guarded Place. 

"You're not him. Remember. Now, focus on what you were reading. This is an ACT for a Muggleborn. You were thinking of the system. This lead to recalling Initiation. You will ignore and you will refocus," Severus calmly recited, Forgetting his Lapse.

He once again looked at the paper and read the name. 

_Hermione Jean Granger; result 100%/O equivalent. Muggleborn. _

This was the first time a Muggleborn had achieved a perfect score, at least in his experience. He knew Lily hadn't, as she had tackled him yelling, _"I only got 87%! Fruitcakes!"_ There were examples of scores in excess of 90%, though they were rare. Miss Clearwater came to mind. In fact, this Granger seemingly had not been challenged by the difficulty at all. Severus frowned and started to study the paper more closely. 

"Clearly she has read and used the textbook definitions. On the face, not impressive. However, her explanations illustrate that she has not just recited what she learned by rote; instead, she has correctly applied examples to the concepts that are the focus of this test. Consequently, I would be confident in inferring, though only in a manner probationary, that this Miss Hermione Jean Granger has obtained information beyond the proscribed texts and, furthermore, most likely read relevant contemporary works. In fact, she has specifically identified and obtained the relevant texts and has also critically analysed the information itself. It also isn't excessive. Each answer is fully completed in the space provided."

Severus blinked and continued frowning. 

"This is impressive. I would wager that-"

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, DADDY," screamed out Marcus, lunging directly into his ribs, causing Snape to groan in 'pain'. "You were doing your silly 'Prosfeshinal Talk' Daddy, it was funny."

Severus looked down at his son and smiled. "Marcus, as I have told you, my Professorial Talk allows me to focus and properly ascertain the vagaries and subsequent lackadaisical ruminations of the Philistines whom I'm to usher through this here Institution of Learning."

Marcus slowly nodded and calmly replied, "Daddy, you're talking stupid words again. Play Brooms with me please." 

"Of course. Would you like to fl-" "YESS, YAY".

_August 22nd 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Headmaster's Office**

"I'm sorry Minerva, but this is necessary," Albus said, as calmly as possible. After the many years he had worked with and spent with Minerva, he knew that the most critical error a person could make when debating her was to start yelling or even raise their voice. It wasn't that she would become stubbornly vindictive nor that she would scream back. Instead, it calmed her and allowed her to utilise her own formidable powers of debate more effectively. At this point, what was usually a reasonable, measured conversation would quickly become a battle of wills that Albus usually would only win by pulling rank.

He had heard people laugh at him when he mentioned her powers of debate; generally, those same people would cry when it was their time.

"Albus, the Philosopher's Stone is currently being sought after by He Who Must Not Be Named who, seemingly, is not deceased."

"He is merely a sha-" 

"His shade is more than enough to kill half the students in this school, Albus. Do not try and placate or misdirect me. Do not try and tell me this will be perfectly safe. This is not like allowing Hagrid to keep the Cerberus nor is it like allowing Professor Sprout to introduce Mandrakes in second year. It's not refusing to be more firm with the _entirety_ of the Divination staff. You are proposing to bring the Philosopher's Stone into and protecting it within a school. You are directly creating a serious safety risk for our students. Tell me what you are planning now or I will not support you with the other senior staff members."

Minerva then ended any further debate on the matter by crossing her arms, her legs and leaning back in her seat. 

Albus sighed. The last time she had taken this informal position was when he argued against allowing Sirius his opportunity of a trial. 

_"Albus, I taught Sirius for seven years. He did not betray them. Wipe your eyes, calm your mind and use YOUR DAMN BRAIN!"_

This had taught him one thing: more often than not, she was right. 

"Fine. I fully intend to lure Voldemort into Hogwarts and, hopefully, kill him. As you know, he has access to Horcruxes. I have some theories as to what they are but obviously, the where is the issue. As you know, a Horcrux cannot be a basic item. It must have an emotional relevance to the Creator that they actively desire to abuse, warp and defile or at least that is the basics of which I've been able to glean. As such, I have decided to-"

"Albus, your plans for Hogwarts. When I find it necessary to discuss those abominations, I will do so. Why do you think you will be able to lure He Who Must Not Be Named and why exactly do you think it is necessary to risk the students? Stop trying to deflect."

He ran his hand down his face, clenching his other by his lap. _'Remember, you must trust her. She never has betrayed you and only would if you deserved it.' _Albus looked out his window and collected his thoughts. 

"I am going to hide the Stone in the Mirror of Erised. Only someone who has no desire to use it will be able to take it from the Mirror. Someone who wants to use it will be trapped by the Mirror and made to live through their deepest desires, until they are stopped by another person. If their intent is truly ill, then I will adapt the Mirror to Switch. I also plan to include various other puzzles and protections. Hagrid will allow me to use Fluffy to guard the initial gateway. I will also ask the Heads of House, along with Quirinus, to create their own protections. The main issue is that they will have to be difficult enough to slow down a Wizard of Voldemort's ability but also not so dangerous that they harm any student who may somehow enter. As you can see, this is a truly difficult endeavour."

"Hmm. Why Quirinus?"

"I have a belief that he may very well be working with Voldemort or is, at the least, Dark-aligned. I want him to have a vague knowledge of what will be required to get the Stone so that he is tempted and does not simply ignore it. It is tantalising but so very risky. If he is aligned with Voldemort, there are more difficult but much safer ways of having Voldemort regain his physical body, which do not provide the boon of effective immortality. I want him to try and get the Stone, trap him and then have the Mirror Switch. If that happens, it will lock the Stone for eternity within the Mirror, along with Quirinus."

Minerva calmly looked at Albus. He looked back, desperately wishing for her support. Desperately hoping she would not ask why Quirinus was necessary. She wouldn't forgive him, not if he was right.

"Can you create an Age Line?"

"An Age Line? Wh-"

"You can use one of the less used Corridors, The Third Floor Corridor would be best, towards the Defense Wing. It is not used used as often as other areas but is still close enough to be easily be kept under surveillance. The Age Line will be used to repel any students who are foolish enough to try and enter the Corridor. As such, we can then create 'puzzles' that hopefully can injure, maim or, hopefully, _kill _He Who Must Not Be Named and... whoever his supporter is before they can get to the Stone. Unless, there is a reason you cannot create an Age Line. Albus, you think that there is more than one agent working for Voldemort inside Hogwarts this year. Furthermore, you believe they are a student. Correct?"

"Yes," Albus replied, making sure to look her directly in the eyes.

She stood up and walked up to Fawkes, starting to stroke him. Minutes passed by as the two waited in silence, one thinking about the alternatives, the other hoping beyond hope he would receive, if not her support, but at least acceptance of his plan. If she refused it, it was not worth doing.

'Hogwarts is a school, first and foremost," Minerva suddenly said, breaking the silence.

"Our responsibility is to protect the students and minimise any harm caused to them. We are educators, primarily. I, however, very much believe our responsibility is not only limited to the time we teach them; we also, as their elders, need to protect their future. That includes taking risks to stop V-Vol-..You Know Who. I will create a chess set for your puzzle. Hopefully that will suffice. You are also to keep me fully informed of what exactly you are planning to do and are doing. This is not the type of political game you enjoy so much, Albus. There are students here and they some will die if you try and pull the strings yourself."

"I know, Minerva," Albus replied quietly.

"I am aware. I thought I should remind you, as is usual procedure. Also know, if you do end up foolishly manipulating events without keeping myself and the Heads of House involved, I will take action. Understood?"

"Yes."

The two, once again, fell silent, Albus seated, Minerva still stroking Fawkes. 

"How many Galleons has Sirius contributed this time?"

"He said view it as almost a blank cheque, most of which was spent on trying to locate the Mirror."

"You don't yet have it?"

"Oh yes. I just need to get it."

"Hmm. Get out of here, Albus."

"Ah, Minerva, this is my of-"

"Out."

As Albus quickly strolled out his office, lest he enrage her further, he started to consider how to get the Mirror.

_August 23rd 1991, 23 Periwinkle Rd, Kent._

Alastor Moody grunted and then glared at Albus. 

"Fletcher. Shacklebolt. That's all I need. Get out. I need to move. Anyone who saw you prancing up will know you're visiting me. Eyes are everywhere. Don't forget. Piss off."

Albus smiled genially and turned away, flicking his wand and blocking the Stunner fired at his back.

"Good. Constant Vigilance, Albus. Constant Vigilance." 


	4. Part 1: Introductions

_13th September 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Library**

"You see Sally-Anne, that is why you really must try and read the supplementary readings. It provides context to what you really require to get as good a mark as possible. i really think you will benefit quite exponentially from really focusing on doing as many of the readings as possible. It's hard to do all of them, I guess. I do but my Mother taught me to speed read and I understand my memory is eidetic but not overly so. It makes it much, much easier to remember everything and to read everything, except the issue is obviously providing the surrounding context to what you are writing and discussing in your paper. See, what you did wrong here, yes you did it wrong, sorry to offend, Sally-Anne, but what you did wrong was that you really failed to properly explain what you meant. Very much failed to do so. Impressively so, actually. Also, that is not how you spell those words, too many...wrong letters. Which school did you go to? I went to St Margaret's Preparatory School for Gifted Girls and I was top of my year. Apparently, it went me then daylight but I find that a silly phrase as 'space' or 'gap' or 'blank' would be much more apt, I would say; however, I feel it a bit arrogant to try and correct what is a saying with a greater history than my own. I lack that hubris or at least I hope I do. Anyway, what you wrote is wrong in both content and in delivery of said content. It would better to re-do, I personally believe."

"Groanger, piss off," snapped Sally, glaring at Hermione. 

"Granger, Sally, not Groanger. Honest mistake, I am sure. Also, I find it a bit offensive you would ask me to....um.... p off. It is crude and also impossible. Unless it is possible through Magic. Is it, Sally-Anne?" 

Sally-Anne Perks was in the same year as Hermione, though she was in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. Perhaps she felt offended that a student in her year was correcting her. 

"Oh, sorry for offending you. You are the same year as me and I think we should all work together as much as possible and help each other out where possible. I know if you are having difficulty with the content"-

"Do you have difficulty?" asked Valerie Quint, studying her nails.

"Well, no. It is not that difficult, really. Quite basic actually. Cheering charms are fairly basic conceptually. Explaining the general function and the like is simple. At least I find it simple," replied Hermione, nodding and smiling. Hopefully, if this went well, she would make her first Hogwarts friends or technically, first friend since....first year of primary school. Though Neville seemed promising. So did that Weasley boy, though he had been a tad uncouth, to be frank. That Pansy girl had _looked_ at her, the blonde boy had turned and walked away, weirdly. The black boy and the Irish boy had both ignored her, but it was probably because Great Hall was pretty big and voices could be not heard even if you were close to the other person. Well, new school, new classmates and a whole new-

"Are you listening, Groanger?" snapped Sally-Anne, now glaring at Hermione with clear hostility.

"...Yes, we were talking about your low standard of work and your difficulty with Cheering Charms. Did I miss something, Sally-Anne?"

"Yes, that I'm a Third year student. That we just started Cheering Charms and they are not really that easy. Are they, girls?"

Sally-Anne's friends nodded as one, with Valerie and the early developer in the sternum area nodding behind her.

"Like, the explanations, the intent and the wand movements aren't that easy, really. So if I'm having trouble, I can't help it so I don't need a child telling me what I'm doing wrong. Got it?" snarled Sally-Anne, her friends nodding in support.

"Of course, I'm sure if you can do it then hahahahahahahahahahahaha." Sally-Anne started smiling and laughing and for some reason reached for her own wand. The other girls started screaming and started to reach for their wands as well. In fact, one of them had lunged at her, though her well placed Cheering Charm made her stop and start laughing.

"Well, it is not that hard provided you use the movements and the correct pronunciation. And now you are laughing, which is great so I think we should consider.... are you upset?"

Hermione quickly grabbed her books and started putting them in her bag. For some reason, her hands were shaking so she was really having a hard time to put them in the bag and now they started yelling at her and here came the librarian...

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Penelope Clearwater clenched her fists and started to nod to herself. 

Adola Proudfoot, her best friend and Chief Love Advisor stood by the corner, keeping an eye on the prey. The plan was working pretty much perfectly, up to this point at least. Gemima had caught his attention, Sarah, or Saralivasianinon if you wanted to get kicked, had distracted his brothers, who were currently most likely explaining how the next big prank would go down. Then Martina and Kumiko had staged a fight to force him run this way, which then lead to him then breaking that up, probably sighing and heading to Library because he needed to check out what he hadn't understood during Transfiguration, because Professor Stevens was "most likely not quite up to scratch."

The plan was perfect.

_'Penelope, you can do it. Your love story begins now.'_

"Hello Penelope, how are you doing today?" asked Percival Arthur Weasley, a man as perfect as Narcissus. Also, unexpected.

As such, it was inevitable that Penelope would squeak, jump up and blurt out, "_I'm not waiting for you or anything._"

"Oh, OK. I didn't believe you were. How have you been? Are you taking Professor Snape's Accelarated Potions class as well?" Percy asked, always eager to ask his only real academic challenger how they were going in their studies.

"Of course I am. Don't be ridiculous. I'm in the 7:30pm class on Tuesdays. How about yourself?"

"Sorry, it was quite ridiculous to ask, wasn't it? Well, I'm in the 6:30pm Thursday class. It's truly fascinating. He truly is a Master of the craft."

"I know! He's absolutely brilliant. A tad grumpy and mean, but, really fantastic. Also, Marky is just so cute! He asked me whether or not I would play Brooms with him. I'm not entirely sure what it is, because Professor Snape took him to her cottage, as dinner was ready," gushed Penelope, grinning at the memory of the living proof of Professor Snape's mysterious Soft Side. Rumours among Hogwarts students run rampant, generally around the fact he would smile at Marcus, _even when he made mistakes._ Or even that he would _smile._

Not smirk or sneer or grin condescendingly or sneer condescendingly or grin sarcastically or condescendingly, for that matter.

Actually _smile_ due to what was assumed to be happiness.

"Oh. Penny, did you see him smile?" asked Percy, now excited. 

"Yeah Penny, did he smile?" squealed out Adola, who was the leader of the Snape Fan Club; membership consisted of herself, Penelope and future applicants. Apparently, she liked strong, silent types, even though Professor Snape really did speak quite often.

"No, _Addy, _I didn't see him smile. Anything you haven't seen recently?" asked Penelope, staring pointedly at Percy, who had turned and started to smile at Adola.

"Nah, must of missed it or something. Not gonna lie, I straight up zoned out. I saw that Potter kid. Bit of a scrawny little dweeb, I reckon. Confident little shit, though. Winked at me, then giggled when I told him to "fuck off". So not too bad. What dya think Perce, he's been chumming it up with little Ronny boy," replied Adola casually, picking her ear. Already 6'1", Adola had the build of a rugby player, primarily because she played rugby. She was also a member of the eminent Proudfoot family, one of the members of the Wizengamot. Her parents were quite famous for having an exceedingly lax attitude towards what she and her brothers did, once explaining to Penelope "Look, as long as she doesn't get knocked up or kill someone or some other dumb stuff, we're happy for her. The motto of our family is "Independence before Conformity, Provided it's Profitable". As such, they were generally treated with disdain by the more strident, lower Strata Purebloods, though considering most were poorer and less ruthless than the Proudfoots, they couldn't do much to act on this disdain. 

Percy smiled awkwardly and said, "From what Ronald has told me, Harry is an outgoing, very polite young man. He assisted Ron when there was some trouble with the Malfoy boy, Wyvern's younger brother. Um, do remember Adola, swearing is prohibited in the hallways and during class. Feel free to do it in your own time, of course. However, when out and about, please do refrain from using that language. It sets a poor example for the younger years."

"Oh. Sure, no problem mate. Me and Penny gotta rock and roll off so we'll be seeing you soon."

"Of course. See you around, Penny, Addy. I'm just heading to the Library. Need to work out what Professor Stevens was waffling on about. I hate to insult a Professor but he really is not up to scratch. Sorry for ranting. Bye bye."

With that, Percy strode off.

**Ravenclaw Common Room**

"Penny, I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I just got distracted by little smart arse and then I got distracted by Uriah Strongbow. He was wearing a fucking _Dodgers' _cap. Who the hell wears a Dodgers' cap to a Magical school? They suck. And unless you're Muggleborn, American or have been to America, you probably don't know who they are. I only know who they are because you told me about them and how much they suck. But seriously, I'm so sorry. That plan was perfect."

"Penny, we're sorry as well," chorused Kumiko and Martina, the duo from Hufflepuff.

"We started to fight but then we realised he had seen you so he made a straight line towards you," cried Kumiko, looking pointedly at Penelope through her fingers.

"Oh, truly, truly shocking!" Martina moaned dramatically, throwing her hands up and dropping dramatically into her seat. 

"Well, it's OK. The plan was a bit silly to begin with. No offence, Addy," said Penny. Adola shrugged and yawned, replying "Yeah, considering I got distracted by the baseball cap of a sport I haven't actually watched and played a big part in ruining the plan I created, we're pretty fine. Just like PERCY! How handsome was he today Penny, eh?"

"Oh, he looked so cool it was crazy. Like he was so assertive and of course he's in Advanced Potions...."

The girls smiled as Penelope started to gush about Percy. It was always fairly entertaining when she got started on the topic.


	5. Introductions

_30th September 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Slytherin Common Room**

"So I said to Weasley, "If you had any self-respect, you would burn those robes AND make sure you were in them when you did!" His face went so red I thought he would erupt!" crowed Draco Malfoy, smirking gleefully at how Crabbe and Goyle loyally started cackling. He had a penchant for making the two of them laugh. It was always pretty funny, especially considering how they, Goyle especially, were prone to coughing if they laughed too hard. Sometimes it included them rolling around on the floor. 

Ever since he had been introduced to the two of them, he had always been able to pretty much leave them rolling around laughing, including the one time Goyle peed himself, which in itself was fairly hilarious. 

_'Oh, don't laugh, you'll seem like tool for laughing at your own joke. As Father says, a leader never laughs with people; he has people laugh for him,' _Draco thought, desperately clenching his fist. Fortunately, most of the other first years were, at the very least, focused on how Goyle had started to turn a fine shade of purple. Pansy, one of the numerous girls he had been introduced as potential marriage partners, was cackling like a banshee, which was a tad scary. She was getting very, very red. The rest were giggling or smiling, which was the respectable reaction to what one thought was a funny joke. At least, according to his Father that was the rule, though he felt there were other more important ones.

Draco still remembered vividly when his Grandfather, Abraxas Lorcas Malfoy, had grabbed him by the hair and snarled, _'You're a Malfoy. Those friends of yours are tools. The students at Hogwarts are stepping stones. You are better. You are stronger. You are smarter. Stop crying, whelp.' _He didn't recall what had happened after, though all he knew was by his fourth birthday, his Grandfather was dead and gone. However, his lesson still remained, as did the multitude of others. 

_Purity is Might._

_Might is Power._

_Power is Magic._

_Those who lack Magic are the Weak._

They were rules he would abide by, as the Heir to House Malfoy.

First, he would probably have to slap Goyle's back. He had started to turn blue.

.......He hoped he was OK.

................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"What's he like?" asked Narissa Cleargood, leaning forward in expectation.

"Yes, please tell us! We _reaaalllly _want to know," squealed Nelodia Corngrout, hands clasped in supplication.

Melody Dorea Potter, twin sister of the Boy Who Lived and recently Sorted Slytherin smiled awkwardly, leaning back from the pair. She was short, at best half a head taller than Professor Flitwick. Her hair, like her brothers, was black, though she had brown eyes like her dad, James. Up until now, she had been pretty effective at avoiding the more gossipy of the younger girls. She had achieved this by attaching herself to Millicent, who had already perfected the patented Bulstrode "Piss off or I'll kill you" glare, all at the modest age of 11. It helped that she was already around 170cm tall, meaning she really did tower over all the first and most of the second and third years; the exception was the red headed kid but even he was a tad shorter than Bulstrode.

The topic of conversation was, as the usual, Harry James Potter, Hogwarts most eligible bachelor and the Boy Who Lived. All praise be to him. Exactly how he was the most eligible bachelor was best left to the imagination and not a thought Melody would touch with a bagillion kilometre pole. In fact, the pole was so long it actually wrapped around itself a billion times and then got twisted up. Because Harry was 11. He couldn't have a girlfriend; he was too smelly.

"Um, Melody, we were _hoping_ you could talk to Harry for us. We'd _really _appreciate it. It would be the best for all of us," said Narissa, smiling sweetly while looking like a cat that had found a nest of ratlings. 

This always happened. Ever since her parents had taken her and Harry back from the Durs---_Dumbleys,_ every time someone met her and found out her surname, it was some variation on _'What's Harry like? He's so brave! He's so handsome! He's so cool!' _like he wasn't a kid who hadn't tied his shoelaces until he had turned eight. That might have been because of the Things That We Don't Talk About but still...... he was smelly.

The only issue was, unfortunately, extremely troubling. Melody was terrible at talking to people. She couldn't say no to people. She couldn't shake her head and firmly say, _'I'm sorry girls but my brother is off limits.' _The last time she had said that, the girls in her class has pushed her and started to pull her hair, right up until Ms Fletcher had walked in and started yelling. So Melody really didn't know what to do. Really, it probably wasn't too bad to just introduce them to Harry. They were probably real nice and friendly, not little snots. They would become her best friends and have tea parties with her. They would braid each others hair, laugh at each others jokes and then probably stab her in the back and cast her aside when they snared Harry's approval. Well, at least she would have some friends! YAY!

"Oi, piss off. Those are my seats," snapped Millicent, the True Saviour of the Wizarding World; or at least Melody's world. Narissa and Nelodia both jumped up, starting to glare. 

"I said piss off, not stare at me. You don't move your arses in the next two seconds, I'm going to kick you. You still there in three, I'm biting you right on the face."

"You don't need bot"-

"I know I don't _need_ both. I _want_ both."

The two girls quickly turned and walked off, as Millie grunted and sat down. On the ground, leaning back against the couch. Generally speaking, she didn't like couch cushions because she hated marshmallows and the Hogwarts' cushions were so soft it was like being eaten by a marshmallow. Melody had taken it in stride; people had their quirks, when it came down to it.

"T-T-Tha-thanks, Mil-mil-millie-," stuttered Melody. It generally happened whenever she was scared or intimidated or surprised or overly happy. Essentially, it happened whenever she got excited, either positively or negatively. "I-I-I w-wan-wanted t-to g-get the-em aw-awa-"

"Oi, don't thank me. I did it because I wanted to. Those two always annoyed me at the Pureblood balls. Yes, there are Pureblood balls. I don't get it either. i usually just play Floating with Nott and Daphne. Sometimes Draco joins in, when he isn't doing his Heir stuff," growled Millie, who had decided that Melody was welcome to call her by that name. Mainly because Melody was rarely in a calm enough state to not stutter and Millie had decided she liked her. If only the other girls were as cool as Millie. 

"O-OK," replied Melody, "y-you wan-t he-help with the...Charms...homework? I.....think.....I...unde-underst-under..stand it good."

"Mmhm. I don't get it, Mel. I think Professor Potter hates us. Why's your Mum so strict?"

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

**Gryffindor Common room**

Ron glared at the Charms homework. He really did glare at it. He slowly leant forward and started to glare harder. Theoretically, if he stared hard enough and believed in Magic, he could probably turn into a Basilisk or maybe something less scary, like a Gorgon, and just stare at the homework until it did itself. It was possible, because Magic could make anything possible.

Except no homework, because if he had learned anything over his schooling, it was that the Power of Homework was mightier than the Might of Magic. Homework trumped all and controlled all. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if somewhere in the Department of Mysteries there was a Magical Homework person who was actually the ruler of the world and he was the one who made homework always there. Like, they were all his kids.

"Well, you see Neville, the problem is that you are just really not right at all. It is all wrong. Your sentence structure is incorrect. The words you are using are misspelled or inappropriate. In fact, this is probably one of the poorer efforts I have seen you do up to this point, if I am being honest," droned on Granger, the single most annoying person he had ever met. Not only was she best in the year by a wide margin, she was also a busybody, who just kept on going on and on about how people weren't as brainy as her.

Of course, Neville pretty much sat there and nodded, desperate for the help. Neville was a great guy; he was just really, really....bad at stuff. Real bloody bad. All stuff that could be done, he was bad at it. Remembering, Magic, walking, talking, crying. He even had choked on food more than ten times, which was way above normal. He was also, obviously, one of Ron's oldest and, probably, best friend. It was because of that, he was sitting with Neville and Granger Danger in the corner, on the floor, like forgotten toys. The best example he could think of was that they were like the kids in that Muggle book about the Clown and the sewers. Losers or something. Ron shuddered at the memory of that story. He couldn't remember what it was called; all he knew was that he and Ginny had had to sleep in the same room as Percy for a week after. The two had got a pretty neat set as treats as an apology from the twins, who had made them read it. So, that was good.

"Ronald, you really must try harder. It seems complicated but it is really quite simple. You see..." Grunger started droning.

Ron sighed and started to focus. He couldn't do a better job; might as well use her.

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

**17 Archibald Crescent, Gryphons' Rest**

Three looked at the Object. The Mirror was around 12ft high and 4ft wide. The edge was made of some type of wood, which was a deep, bright Gold. As far as Eight could tell, it was not any known type. On that note.

"Eight, stop staring," snapped Three, causing the masked man to jerk and turn around. He had been looking into the Mirror again. Looking again at what he desired.

The Mirror of Erised was an Enchanted Object. It was anywhere from 200 to 2000 years old, possibly older; it had first been allegedly recorded around the time of King Herod. It was either a normal Magical Object that simply projected an image of what you wanted or it was an Enchanted Object. Alternatively, it had actually been created a mere 200 years ago, by the Lord of Desire, Marvelius Grilt, the first Welsh Dark Lord. The references to it from earlier times were in regards to other Objects with similar properties. From what he had gleaned from the dossier received before the mission, no-one had any clue at all about what the fuck this thing was and how it worked or what it actually did.

All they knew is that it showed Desire, suitably capitalised.

Three didn't particularly fucking care, all told. He didn't fucking care at fucking all about the history of the fucking thing, really. Not even what it did or how it fucking did it. 

He looked glared at it and his brother's wife slowly started to slide her hands down her cheeks, her neck, slowly cupping her breasts as she moaned in ecstasy, running her left hand further down her body, her bellybutton, through the soft hair between her thighs and starting to stroke her Three jerked his head and stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He looked around, making sure no-one else had seen what he had seen. Eight was crouched down looking at the corner. Five had taken to lying down with his back to the Mirror, slowly drawing circles in the dust on the ground in front of him. Twelve, Seventeen and Six were all in the kitchen, playing Exploding Poker. Seven, Nine and Eleven were all sleeping, fortunately for them. 

It didn't seem to have a direct influence when you weren't in the room with it. But It still followed you, still pulled you. Just a bit.

Initially, it had been eight hour shifts for watching, resting and guarding. The leaders, One and Two, the only people in the Numbers who knew each others actual identity, or so they thought, made sure to take most of the shifts, to try and reduce the pressure on the others.

It had decreased from that to six hours as the tempers started to fray slightly, as was normal for a mission as fucking brutal as this one had been. Of the 25 members who had initially taken part, only ten of them remained.

It had been reduced to four hours when One, the Leader, had turned and told Two, "Your daughters teasing me again I'm going to fuck her and break her and make her beg, she wants me so much, she's so desperate for it and when she cries 'please no' i'll choke her while I fucking _break her_", his diatribe being broken by Two punching him in the jaw then snarling "She's mine trash she's mine don't you touch her, I touch her I'll tear you to shreds, she's mine". It had taken four other members to grab them and pull them apart. Three hours later, they had found One crying in a pool of his own blood, having castrated himself. Two was found in a closet, having seemingly having chewed off his own hands, whimpering about how "needed to touch them so much."

15 minutes after that, Three had slit both their throats and burned their bodies. 

He had then changed the shifts schedule, requiring there be three people in the room with the Mirror at all times, to prevent them from being ensnared.

Still...... still. Three looked at Five, who was now calmly singing "White Christmas." He was struggling. Eight had slowly leaned into the corner, tapping his head against the wall. 

Three frowned and turned, once again looking at the Mirror. This time, he was having a bath. It was how this thing worked. One moment you were a voyeur, getting prepared to fuck your sister in law or your oldest friends six year old daughter; the next you were having a damn bubble bath. Three looked away and saw Nineteen standing in the doorway.

"Nineteen, what the fuck are you doing here?" snapped Three. Five rolled over and blinked at Nineteen, who was smiling cheerfully. Eight turned around and tilted his head.

"Mate, you're up, eh? About fucking time, ya piece o' shite, lollygagging like a fucking girl, ya fuc- eh, I'm talking to ya!"

The other six remaining members entered the room, alerted by the loud, powerful voice of Eight.

Nineteen was still smiling, now nodding, staring directly at the Mirror. Three blinked. Three people had carried the Mirror during the escape and two had been killed, Twenty and Twenty Three. Nineteen had been another. He had collapsed when they had reached the safehouse, after having been directly touching and staring directly into the--

"Grab him."

The others blinked in confusion, as Nineteen started to stroll forward. 

"GRAB HIM," screamed Three now starting forward to stop Nineteen, as Eleven and Nine lunged forward as well. 

Nineteen strolled forward, already too far away, somehow. In this average sized room, it didn't make sense.

_ He calmly walked towards the Mirror smiling at the Him inside, that was calling him. So he went. _

The remaining Numbers watched as Nineteen strolled around the back of the Mirror and didn't come out the other side. 


	6. Introductions

Three sits in a chair and looks carefully around the room. He has lost another member, Nine.

Nine had been whispering the last two weeks, whispering about boys. 

Three is not surprised. Nine had been recruited from Azkaban, imprisoned for the rape and murder of seven children. Three is not shocked; in fact, he knows that is false.

It is definitely more than that. Much more than that. Three knows this and Three thinks this. Three knows all about these other people. 

Nine: Silas McNair, as Three has been saying, a renowned pederast or 'kiddy diddler.' Three smiles as this joke is good.

One and Two: the Terrors of Bath, James Swift, reluctant, jealous pedophile and then Stephen Jennings, inclined the same though so much more violent and willing, yet wracked by guilt.

Eight: the new guy, only a run of the mill rapist, not anything more devious. Three thinks he will be next.

The theme of this group, as Three has been saying, is that each is a _truly nasty criminal._ So much a very, _very,_ nasty criminal. For One and Two, Two's daughters and wife would be much safer with them dead; so to would the the young boys of Britain. For Eight, Three is certain it is old men but Three is unsure.

All are criminals, with crimes from A to Z, most violent. Nasty, _nasty _crimes, yucky and bad, bad like her so beautiful and desirable I want her so much and I know she wants me too so much even if she says no, no it's yes because she's nervous but it's yes or at least it _will_ be

_The warm embrace of a Loving Women who is yours; take her and Make Her_ Yo-

Three jerks back his head as he breaks his finger, not screaming.

Three is Three. Three is Three. Three is here in this room and he is looking at a mirror. Three is Three.

The Mirr- no mirror is now showing Three eating a steak nice and bloody. Three likes this steak, it is what he wants so very much. He's very hungry, because it's hard to eat. He's very hungry, in fact I'd say I was famished. I could go for a good fat steak, a dozen pints, a side of chips; no fucking salad. Yeah, I could go a fucking steak. 

"Three, stop looking," says Eleven, from behind hi-_Three. _I-Three am Three.

"Three, from when I was a child, I would watch Mum change. I would hide in the closet and, you know, enjoy myself. After a while, I would watch my sisters, then I would find ways to sneak into the girl's change rooms and then I would start going into bathrooms. Then, as you probably know, from there I felt looking wasn't enough and I had to just do a bit more. A tiny bit more. Lo and behold, I'm _the_ Nathaniel Whitehall, the Voyeur of London, who'd watch then take what he wanted. I don't think it's wrong, really. I deserved it and I could do it so I took it. Problem is, recently, and it's this damn thing, it's been making me think about who I want to look at and how much I want to... look and stare and view. I wish I knew who thought it was a good idea to get us, people who've already fed our desires, to take a Mirror that shows them to us. Even worse, I don't even know why it made me do this. It took my eyes."

Three is looking desperately anywhere but Eleven's split eyes.

"Three, pleasure working with you but I'm going. Bye."

Three is slowly nodding and biting his lips until it bleeds as Eleven is walking past him and into the Mirror. Some to the mirror, some through their own hand, the Numbers have decreased. 

There are four left. Three is one. Three is here. His fingers are still broken and they hurt him. Three has lasted three months now. Three can persevere. 

Three is Three and Three is here. Three is hurts and Three feels. The mirror won't have Three. No, it won't have Three.

Three will look at the _Daily Prophet_, for some reason it is still being delivered. Three knows the Numbers got here on the 1st of September. Three knows it has been three months. It is then December the 1st.

Three is looking and Three is checking. 

It is September the 5th. It has been five days. How. 

How.

Three looks at the Mirror and the Mirror is looking back, it seems. A Three is in the Mirror and the Three is smiling. He has a _Daily Prophet_.

It is from December 1st. 

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

_5th of September 1991_

**19 Grange St, Stokeworth**

The door was opened by Miranda Fairfield, who was smiling, even though it was an interruption during dinner. She broke into an even wider grin when she saw who'd turned up. 

"Oh Peter, how are you? I thought you were still on the business trip. Come in, your Dad was just telling us about the first time you and Michael used Magic. He reckons that the walls still pink and covered in flowers! Dinners still warm; have whatever you want."

Miranda smiled warmly.

Three looked back.

"Thank you. I _need _this."

The door shuts behind Three. Three locks the door. 

Three is Three and I need this. 


	7. Part 2: Actions

**Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, undisclosed**

"So, basically, what the fuck happened in that house? I'm not following. Pretend I'm a five year old child- shut up Remus, I'm serious- and explain again. How exactly did you two end up in a house with more than 15 dead bodies?" asked James Potter, vice-deputy of the Order of the Phoenix and current holder of the Potter seat on the Wizengamot. 

Alastor glared at James and said, "I can't read dead people's minds. Yet. Why I don't trust them. What I told you is what happened. Shacklebolt, repeat it. I'm tired."

With that, Mad Eye sat down and pulled out a newspaper. Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed and looked around the room. 

_10 September 1991_

**17 Archibald Crescent, Gryphon's Rest**

Kingsley Shacklebolt was crouching around four feet behind his target. His target was a member of a mercenary troop, the fairly average Taipans. Their slogan was the highly witty "We strike first and always first", which illustrated, in Kingsley's opinion, a lack of knowledge regarding the characteristics of the taipan. Whilst venomous, they generally reacted rather than attacked aggressively. 

His personal assumption was that they hadn't been able to use the more accurate Black Mamba or King Brown, more traditionally aggressive snakes and, thus, more suitable to the slogan. In fact, he was positive as he had arrested and fought as least 50 members of the Black Mambas, one of the more elite of the 'Wands for Hire' mercenary troops that existed throughout the Wizarding world.

Kingsley stood up and stretched, now honestly testing to see if his mark was blind or dead. While he was a master of the Disillusionment Charm, plus the various other required Stealth spells, he really shouldn't be able to get this close without the fellow at least glancing around or moving nervously. To add extra confusion, he could see two other members, both stationed fairly obviously and neither of them even appearing the slightest bit alert. As such, Shacklebolt took a step forward, close up to his back.

At this point, he heard a quiet whispering. Frowning, Kingsley moved to the right and looked over the chap's shoulder, curious to see exactly what was going on. He was asleep and mumbling. Whispering something about Kneazles and Crups. 

"Hmm. Alastor, when did you take care of this chap?" asked Kingsley, dropping his Charm and deflecting the Stunner fired at him. It, of course, came from around five feet in front of him. Alastor dropped his own Stealth spells, putting up a Protego as he did so. He waited 25 seconds then dropped it, still cautiously looking around. 

"Stupid question, Shacklebolt. I got here three hours ago and took care of these guys then. Not careful enough; not taught to be vigilant. It kills you. Nice Protego; you've improved," grunted out Alastor, not looking in Kingsley's direction. He then fired a Stunner, which was dutifully dodged by his protege. "Good, you're still quick for a big prick."

Alastor Moody, the legendary Auror who had created, modernised and perfected the tactics used by all Aurors and adopted by many agencies around the world, was 6ft 2in of wiry muscle. Even considering he was 75, he was still fairly fit and active. It was rumoured by the uninformed he ran three drills a day around preventing attacks on his person; those in the know would confirm this as fact. In Kingsley's personal opinion, Alastor's resemblance to a patchwork doll, a testament to his 40 year career as an active Auror, more than justified his paranoia. His legendary career included the taking down of some of the most dangerous and violent criminals in Wizarding history, including a large number of Death Eaters, the shock troops of You Know Who. The fact that he had successfully defeated most without having killing them was testament to his prowess, though he did point out that "almost dead is still alive". In short, there was a valid reason why he was considered as one of the single most dangerous Wizards or Witches in the world. However, as Kingsley knew, Alastor had recently been mentioning how he couldn't move like he used to and that his leg, removed mid thigh by the legendary Death Eater Castor Cleargold, had been seriously hampering him. As such, KIngsley was, admittedly, a tad worried about how he would handle the current assignment.

Evidently, his worries were reasonably unfounded. Mad Eye Moody had quite literally wrote the Aurors' Playbook on Infiltration. 

As Kingsley was ruminating, Moody turned and started looking around carefully, Magical eye whirring. 

"Oi, I can't see in the house. Obscuring wards; double layered to prevent visual or auditory outside surveillance. Wait, auditory is two way. No sound comes in, no sound goes out. Fucking complex stuff. I like it; smart stuff. Makes sense; got the damn Mirror of Erised in there," reported Moody, now starting towards the house. Kingsley ambled after him, completely aware and alert to his surroundings. The simple fact was that this wasn't likely to be too difficult an assignment. As Albus and Sirius had explained, the Mirror had been found and stolen from the Castle of Lord Phillipe Reno, the billionaire creator of the Cleansweep series of broom. Of course, as is the case with most of those with more money than sense, he was also a collector of arcane and rare Magical Objects, one of which was the Mirror.

"From what Albus told us, the Numbers stole the Mirror from Reno Castle. They killed approximately 20 guards and a similar number of servants, though lost over half of the original 25. Lord Reno kindly allowed Sirius access to his Castle to review and investigate the path the Numbers took after escaping, along with petitioning autopsies on the deceased members. It was determined that they escaped the Castle and then took a Portkey to Madrid; from there they took another to Greece and then another to Albania. They stayed there for two days then, for some reason, came here to Gryphon's Rest, which coincided with the beginning of the Hogwarts School year. Question is, why the wait in Albania? Why Gryphon's Rest? Why the exact time the year starts at Hogwarts? Any thoughts, Alastor?" asked Kingsley, who had now positioned himself at Moody's left hand side. 

"Good thing the guards got most of these fuckers. Numbers are nasty pricks; mostly prison escapees or people bought out of Azkaban who are either rapists, murderers or child molesters."

"Bought out of Azkaban?"

"You rich enough and need dirty work, you can buy an Azkaban detainee to do your dirty work. Mostly Purebloods; generally the ones the Dementors aren't interested in. Wet work, theft, assaulting rivals, kidnapping, all the good stuff. Also, obviously there's a reason they came back when Hogwarts started."

"True. Hmm. That explains why I've arrested Simon Wiley 14 times in eight years," said Kingsley, noticing Moody quickly glancing at him. "He's a bank robber 'extraordinaire', master at dismantling Locking Wards and, really, Wards in general. Though, I don't think he was locked up in Azkaban. His crimes weren't too extreme."

"Nah, more likely Pickens' Prison. Can buy from there as well. To answer ya next question, no, I can't stop it. Unfortunately, makes the system too much money and generally, the prisoners' work kills them anyway. Nice and corrupt. Where the hell is Fletc- ah, Wards are down. He's here. Fletcher, you prick, show your face."

Mundungus Fletcher, Order member and 'Master" Thief, was the type of man smelt before he was seen. Unfortunately, he believed that baths and showers stripped away the natural oils that ensured Goblins wouldn't kill your children. As was the case with most of the greatest Breakers, Fletcher was effectively insane. However, he was quite simply, most likely the best Breaker outside of the official Curse Breakers, though he specialised in Wards.

He was currently glaring at them, gesturing towards the house and sticking a hand out, clearly requesting his payment. 

"Hand in the sleeve or I blow it off," growled Moody, both eyes glaring at Fletcher, who shrugged and then spat on the ground, while pulling his hand back. 

"I know not ta push me luck, Mad Eye," Fletcher said, "ya batshit crazy arsehole." He then proceeded to nod to himself and started to mime laughter, to which Moody joined in. Birds of a feather.

Kingsley sighed and cast the Deepened Eavesdropping spell, which was required to hear through most walls.

_"-uck is going on? The FUCK MAN, THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!! WHY THE FUCK IS HIS GUTS OUT! FUCK WHY?"_

_"SHUT UP STUPID CUNT, HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW. OK, NOW.....ST-STOP SPEWING, OK! We got to find this Mirror and bring it to T. Understood. Pull yourself together and- wait, what's that? Oi, be careful you.....fuck."_

The scream that erupted from the house did not require an Eavesdropping Charm to hear.

"See ya, I'm off. Don't deal with no bloody screams," said Fletcher, who Disapparated as soon as he finished speaking. 

Mad Eye sighed and scratched his chin. He looked at Kingsley and said, "He took down the Anti-Apparation Ward I set up. Prick. Owe him a pint."

Kingsley nodded calmly and then yawned and stretched his broad shoulders. One of the biggest mistakes made by new recruits was running in as soon as the screaming started. In other words, trying to be heroes while ignoring the danger. One of the key lessons he had been taught by Fabian was that "_If you know that there are only bad guys inside and they start screaming, you don't have to save them. Let them thin themselves out a tiny bit, get tired, get scared then use that to your advantage. To cut you off, if you know there are hostages or suspect it, then all wands blasting and hope you don't get killed._" In essence, _don't make the job harder; it isn't a race, shortcuts aren't cheating_. It was brutally logical but, as Fabian had explained, his first ever field case had ended with his entire squad dead, save him, because they charged in and were caught in the crossfire between two criminal gangs.

As such, Mad Eye and he had until the screaming stopped before having to make much of a move. It was at that point a window on the upper level exploded and a dark mass came flying out, slamming hard into the ground in front of the two; both had drawn their wands as soon as the glass had started to crack.

"Male, about 6'6", Taipan, decea- ah, nah," Mad Eye had started to report, before the body started to stand. "Keep yourself ready, Kingsley, this should be int- fuck me, his skulls de-gloved."

The man, now standing, was possibly blinking in confusion; his lack of eyelids and, for that matter, lack of face full stop made it difficult to tell. Kingsley aimed his wand at the man, swallowing both the groan of disgust and vomit that had tried to slip from his mouth. Mad Eye was frowning, then said, "No ears; no hair; fuck, it wasn't the fall, it happened inside." Mad Eye then stepped towards the man and lowered his wand.

"Mate, you look like shit. What happened?"

The man stood there, eyes fixated on the two. His muscles, visible, were twitching, his eyes now bloodshot, pinned on the two.

"Meeeerrrroerrr towd mm tuduit," the man suddenly said. He then stepped forward and started to point at Kingsley.

"Gibm skn nowr fkin now give mE YOUR SKI"- _"Stupefy."_

Mad Eye's spell hit the man dead centre; he dropped, muscles slackening and still twitching and moving. Kingsley calmly turned his head and vomited up his favourite curry from Suresh's Curry Shop, smoothly turning back while wiping his mouth. He held his wand steady the entire time, aimed now at the front door of the house. 

"I guess I know what happens when you have no lips; means you can't talk that well, eh?" joked Kingsley, rolling his shoulders and re-adjusting his grip on his wand. Mad Eye nodded, grunting. He then started to move towards the house, offhandedly firing another Stunner at the man on the ground. His focus was now entirely on the house. Unfortunately, the job for the both of them had seemingly become slightly more complicated.

"Should we call for reinforcements?" asked Kingsley, deferring to Mad Eye.

"No. When Fletcher the Fuckhead Disapparated, this fucker down here had started lumbering towards the window. Heard the Crack, just went for it. Probably shock troop; fall didn't do much cos he's got fucking Reinforcement ruins all over his outfit. Acted on general instinct, even though he was faceless. I swear, you and me are going to go back to Headquarters and sink a fucking cask after this."

"Your first time seeing a faceless man?"

"Nah, I captured Tony the Facestealer. Just know after shit like this drunk is better than sober. Also know mercenaries never have one shock trooper; usually eight. Could be dead, could be busy or when they hear a bunch of Cracks, they'll all come out the house like a swarm of Doxies. We could take them but it's too risky. Also, we only have some of the younger kids available from the Order. From what I can tell, looking inside right now, they won't cope. It's not good. Also not MLE-approved so they'll ask questions we don't want to answer. You and me, Shacklebolt. We breach now. Don't be too gentle. Almost dead is alive. Constant Vigilance."

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

The front hallway was clear, albeit it had been recently vacated. The splatter on the walls, of what smelt like a beautiful bouquet of various human excretions, could attest to that. Mad Eye took the lead, eye turning 360. 

"I think I'm going to go to Rosier's grave tomorrow, leave him some flowers and some whiskey. Won't even piss on it," muttered Mad Eye, signalling both rooms on either side as clear.

"How come?" gasped Kingsley, who had started to breathe shallowly through his mouth.

"I can only smell half capacity, cos he blasted most my nose off."

"Ah. Would you like me to hold your wand, allow you to take a closer look and breathe deep of this wonderful scent?" asked Kingsley, with acidic politeness.

"Nah. Just means it's a cask and a bottle of scotch. This is very bad."

Kingsley groaned to himself. Mad Eye was famous of his honest assessments of performances, of mission danger and of possible risks. However, he very rarely referred to anything as 'bad' openly. It was usually 'difficult' or 'challenging'. He was still a professional with some level of tact. The last time he had apparently used the adjective 'bad' was after the Dark Lord's Children had razed Crup's Point and wiped a village off the map. The worst was still to come. 

"....Should we pull out?"

"No, not yet. Spell fire has ceased. Obviously most the fighting's done, and we only have to worry about maybe five more. Can see their images; got it set to body heat," replied Mad Eye, tapping his eye.

"Ah, thermal. Is that one of Ms McDonald's Charms?" 

"Yeah, one of her........ Kingsley, look up."

Slowly Kingsley looked up and said, "Oi, fuck up, aye. Fucks dis bollocks, eh?"

Three men had been crushed into the roof, their bodies spread around like paint; there was a certain artistry to the brutality. Kingsley, a man originally from the London slums and an experienced Auror, had seen a lot and this easily took first place on his personal list of "Fucked Up Shit."

The bodies had been mixed together; they could only tell it was three people because the heads were largely undamaged, staked to the roof. 

"Kingsley, we're getting the Mirror. We're going now. It's on the second level. From what I can see, another two of them have.....gone and there are three left all on the top level. We get the Mirror, we get out. I'll keep watch, you just fucking go. You have the Backpack?"

"Yes, I do," replied Kingsley, cognisant of the genuine urgency on Mad Eye's face.

"Good. We're going triple time. Move"

Kingsley quickly took off, taking the lead over Mad Eye. He in turn followed behind, keeping an eye on their surroundings. 

"Look straight ahead, don't look at corners. Any bodies on this level are dead. Same as the first. Same as the second. Target is second floor, first door on the right. Third floor has live ones, but all are stationary and by themselves. Any shadows are shadows; just keep moving. Constant vigilance."

Kingsley sped up the stairs, hitting the first floor and instantly groaning in disgust. Two bodies were strung up like puppets, their arteries and veins the strings. Kingsley kept moving, holding in his scream as the feet brushed his shoulders. He started to run, struggling to keep a pace Mad Eye could match as closely as possible. He did not want to be split up in this house but he needed out.

"Great work, Kingsley. Keep on moving. One more level. That's just skin, that's just bones, that's just someone who headbutted a wall until their skull caved in. Normal stuff, just a normal job."

"Moody, shut the fuck up."

"Don't tell me to shut up, champ. I'm the fucking greatest Auror in the world!"

"Well, after this we're both going to be the drunkest. Cask and a bottle of scotch"-

"Nah, cask and bottle of scotch each now. Plus pints. And not the weak shit; the fucking strong, dark stuff."

Kngsley laughed to himself, slowing his pace and relaxing. He had started to panic. One tactic in a high stress mission was to argue with your partner; it seemed to work, like it re-focused the mind; hence, it allowed an Auror to regain perspective. It also reminded Kingsley of the important fact: Alastor was worried. This really wasn't the time to worry about panicking. 

The situation was bad.

...............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

The Mirror was beautiful. Quite simply, it was stunning. KIngsley nodded and smiled, quickly pulling the Backpack out of his pocket. It was an invention of the Auror's R&D Department, which was headed by the brilliant Pandora Lovegood. The Backpack was a small bag with an Extending Ward; what made it distinct was that it could be used to carry Magical Objects. Such Objects were usually saturated in Magic and, subsequently, would degrade and override any Spell, Charms or Ruins applied to the carrier. For example, a bag with an Extendable Charm would fail, as the Charm was too weak. 

What Pandora had done was combine five separate Wards, combined with Aramaic-based Bonding Ruins, to create the Backpack, which was the size of a shopping bag and could carry a Magical Object up to size of Big Ben. It was an insanely impressive piece of Magic. He hadn't been able to eke out what Wards had been used by Pandora, much to his chagrin. Not that he could have used said information; applying and mixing Wards at that level was insanely high level and required years of study.

Shaking his head, he zipped up the top of the bag, having swung it over the Mirror while he had been thinking. He quickly turned and yelled, "DUCK" just as Mad Eye swung around and grabbed the wrist of the knife wielder. He then quickly stepped forward, headbutting the man in the nose; blood blossomed out from the point of impact. Without missing a beat, Mad Eye elbowed him in the jaw, grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall, quickly letting go and jumping back. 

"Damn it Shacklebolt, you scared me. I had him covered. I wanted to get him in closer. Could have why the fuck are ya standing up uggghhhhhh fuuuuckk."

Kingsley groaned as well and shook his head. The man had a wide Glasgow grin, with his tongue split in two like a snakes. It was ludicrous and unbelievably grotesque.

"What the fuck is this shit?" snarled Mad Eye, now taking a step forward. "You think this is supposed to scare me? Well, it's fucking working mate. Congratulations. _Confringo._"

The grinning man was blown backwards, smashing hard against the wall on the other side of the hall. Kingsley folded the Backpack and placed it in his vest, frowning at the slight warmth. He then ran out the door, deciding to just fucking sprint. Considering Mad Eye was already doing his patented sprint-run halfway down the staircase, it seemed it was no longer do the mission "Quick but careful" but now "Get the fuck out." Considering Mad Eye's experience, Kingsley could see no reason why he wouldn't oblige.

"Well, the fucking puppets are dancing," yelled Mad Eye. The two human marionettes were twitching and shivering. "They're not alive; one of the fuckers on the top level is controlling them. Fire a Tunneling Curse up _NOW._"

"_Ciniculumus,_" bellowed Kingsley, firing the Curse directly up. It ripped through the roof above, then smashed into the next; a high-pitched screeching laughter erupted from there, the voice then starting to sing, "_I've got a cauldron full of hot strong love that's going to be unfurled, got flavour that'll be better than in that Muggley woooooooooooooorrrrrllllld", _before the sound of scuttling footsteps became noticeable, as the song continued. The marionettes had stopped moving, at least. Not that either Order member cared. They had started sprinting once again, taking the stairs three at a time.

Mad Eye lifted his wand and roared "_Gale vis tendene" . _sending a powerful blast of wind down the hallway. He then glanced back and said, "Catch them off guard cos there'll be someone in the hallw-AH _FUCK!"_

Unfortunately, while there was a man clearly struggling to move by the door, the gore coating the walls had been dispersed into a fine, pungent mist.

"I'm pissing on that piece of trash Rosier's fucking grave for not taking the rest of my fucking nose," screamed Moody, glaring furiously towards the door as he sprinted. Kingsley simply projectile vomited, covering his robes. As they hit the door, he stopped, turned and kicked the man in the head; he then grabbed him and dragged him out. 

Moody and Shacklebolt then Disapparated away, barely hearing the telltale crack of the new arrivals.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Silence blanketed the room.

James leaned back and slowly rubbed his chin. He then moved forward and nodded, frowning.

"Fuck."

"Good summation, James," said Remus Lupin, looking distinctly green.

"Thank you. Kingsley, Alastor, I need you to tell me every detail. Alone, at a later date. I appreciate you held off some of the more graphic details. Trainee Auror Tonks, when she stops throwing up, can vouch for you on these general details; unfortunately, Robards' squad, of which she's a member, took the call from the initial Hitwizard team," said James, standing up and limping heavily around the table.

"Two things: human 'marionettes' were characteristic of the serial killer Jonas Thynghest; you said he sang."

"Yeah," grunted Mad Eye, still reading the paper, "he was butchering a _A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love 1; _getting the lyrics wrong on songs that brilliant sickens me. Worse than the damn puppets."

Moody flipped his paper then looked around the room. 

"Seems like Jonas. Very possibly he was a Numbers' recruit. From what I recall, he was an expert Duellist and a very talented medic. Second thing?"

"One of them was missing."

The tension in the room thickened. Kingsley frowned, asking "What do you mean missing?"

"That division of the Taipans has 16 members: dead or alive, all are accounted for. The Numbers have 25 members: half died escaping from Castle Reno, the rest, or at least most of them, were found around the building. A couple were burned to ash but the Investigative team have identified them as members. Around four were found in one room, stacked. They're not damaged physically, just dead. Hollow, in fact. The suspected Jonas Thynghest escaped. That accounts for 24. One of them is missing."

Mad Eye had discarded his paper and stood up, nodding. "This is challenging. I'll follow leads on Thynghest; ignore the missing Number for the moment. Something will some up and you can bet your Seat it'll be related to this shit. Also, Kingsley, take that Mirror to Albus now and tell him what happened."

James nodded and said, "I'm happy with that Alastor. I'll owl Sirius and organise a meeting. I'll get him up speed. I'll most likely need you to sit in. Lupin, help Moody. Thynghest knew Greyback and the Iron Hide of Belfast; he helped them catch children to Turn. Talk to some of the werewolves. Sorry in advance. Feel free to use as much force as you want, just don't get caught. Kingsley, you're still here. Go, now. Afterwards, Alastor, Kingsley, go to a pub, bring Tonks and put it one my tab."

The room emptied, with the exception of James. He limped up to the window and stared outside, observing the leaves swaying in the breeze.

"Fuck."

He sighed and limped to the door leading to the basement.

He had to interrogate the captive.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Three walks out the door as Three is done. Three has had what Three has wanted for Three. What Three wanted are done crying or that one what Three wanted is done crying. The rest are silent.

Three is Three and Three is pleased. 

Jenny Fairfield slowly gasped for air as her uncle walked out the door, desperately trying to ignore the.....

................

Jenny started to cry, pain tearing through her entire body, blood dripping from places she didn't realise it could or would. 

She heard the door open and heard the light steps come towards her. She continued to sob and opened her eyes and looked at her uncle, hoping for him to pick her up, laugh like he usually would and start to whisper it would be OK. He had never hurt her or anyone of the other why now why now why now why nowwhynowhy- it's not him.

Three is Three and Three looks at the thing Three now desires, though it is not as appealing. Three crushes it's neck and turns away. 

Three is Three. Three is Three. Three will survive and Three is me.


	8. Actions

_22nd October 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Fifth Year Charms**

"Penny, Penny. It's OK sweetie. It's OK. Shhh, shhh. Really, it's O-pfft-OK. Do-Don't stresspffpffpffpff," whispered/laughed Adola, rubbing Penny's shoulder with her left hand while starting to bite the knuckles on her right. The Milfrond twins, Jasper and Jespar, were pointedly looking away, lips curling upwards. Cha Chang, real name Sandy and older sister of Sarah, aka Cho, was shaking her head glaring at the two of them. Adola tilted her head and flipped up her middle finger, still desperately trying not to laugh. Cha liked Percy and was actively pursuing him; hence, Adola disliked her, on behalf of Penny.

She was also a massive bitch but that was less important.

Adola kept the bird flipped until Cha sniffed and turned back to the front, where Professor Erksine was pointedly ignoring the byplay amongst his students. He was a cool dude, except that he pretty much constantly checked out the students. So a good teacher, massive sleazeball. Adola kept it flipped for another couple seconds, then retracted it, clasped her fist and continued to giggle, still rubbing Penny's shoulder. On her part, Penny was still face down on the desk, softly groaning.

The rest of the student around the room were split between a couple being ignorant, a few ignoring, a handful whispering and pointing at Penny (Adola would have to have some words) and most were smiling or giggling. It was an open secret among the Fifth year students that Penny _Luuuurrrved_ Percy and, subsequently, was the single most supported ship (between humans) at Hogwarts, at least amongst the Fifth students.

Wood and Quidditch was number one. Snape and Sneering was number two.

Speaking about Wood, that dickhead was probably thinking about how he would suck as a Keeper in the first match back. Because he sucked.

"Fucking blonde gimp," growled Adola, now angry.

"Why do you hate Wood so much, Addy? He's really quite a nice guy," mumbled Penny, now glancing at her. 

"He's a fucking gimp. And he broke up with Genevieve because he needed to train more Quidditch, leading her on and breaking her heart. He's a self-centred blonde twat-faced arsehole, so fuck him. And everyone thinks because we're both Keepers and argue we're meant for each other, when I just hate him," ranted Adola, under her breathe and quietly to Penny; Pervskine was a fairly relaxed teacher, until you _really _disrupted class. He also loved Wood, the Deputy Gryffindor Head of House muppet that he was.

A balled up piece of parchment smacked Adola in the back of head. She swung around and glared at Kumiko, who was pointedly focusing on helping Martina complete her homework, who in turn was stroking her chin with a focus she never gave to her work. Adola opened the paper and read "_Adola and Oliver sitting on broom, they need to go get a room, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Adola with a baby carriage!" _Turning back around, she drew her finger across her throat, then pointed at both in turn. She then shifted slightly and pointed at Fergus Runcorn, who had been looking at the interaction in confusion.

He looked at her. She looked at him. She mouthed "_You're next._"

"What did I do?!" he exclaimed.

"Mr Runcorn, don't disrupt class, please," snapped Pervskine, glaring at him with distaste. "Go wait in the hall, NOW!"

"But"- 

"Hall!"

Fergus sighed and stood up, walking out of the room. He glared at Adola, who shrugged and waved goodbye.

...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"Yo, Fergus. Five Knuts," greeted Adola, holding out her hand.

"No way on this Earth am I giving you any Knuts, at all," snapped Fergus, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

"Had to try. You were pretty stupid yelling that out. You know Mr Pervskine hates disruptions. Dumb move on your part. I'll take those Knuts," Addy 'apologised', now holding out her other hand. Fergus huffed in disgust, then turned and stormed off, muttering to himself.

"Oh, Adola, sweetheart, why must you be such a cruel, vindictive bitch," cried out Martina, swinging her arm up over her shoulder, which involved a jump and dragging her down, causing Addy to grunt in discomfort.

"Yes, Adola-san, you lack the housewife spirit," said Kumiko, daintily swinging her arm over the opposite shoulder and sticking a finger in Addy's ear. 

"Oi, get off," growled Addy, standing up and shimmying around. Both girls leapt back, jumped into each others arms, pressing their cheeks together. 

"Oh, the evil woman, evil woman, you will never find your love," cried Martina, slumping into Kumiko dramatically, just as Kumiko said, "A housewife's duty is paramount; you are not Yamato Nadeshgwaaaah," losing her balance and falling down. Martina had misjudged how stable Kumiko had been; as a result, both were collapsed on the floor, quietly groaning. 

"Crack off, dickheads," muttered Addy, leaning down and helping them both back up. "You guys are both ridiculous. Seriously, do not EVER pull that Wood on a broom crap with me again."

"Of course we shall. It is inevitable," replied Kumiko, brushing herself off, then brushing down the back of Martina's robes. "We have a responsibility as your friends to assist you in your journey towards finding true love. Also, I find it funny that Wood rides a broom, itself a long shaft of wood. It is a good visual pun, especially when he rides in the morning."

"True, Kumiko; dear, sweet Adola, do you ride Wood's broom in the morning? One could say Wood's morning wo-oof" Adola pulled back her fingers, having lightly poked Martina in the gut. She then shook her head and replied, "No, I have standards. Anyway, stop with that crap, we have bigger fish to fry. Penny's gone. We need to find her ASAP."

The two other girls gasped in unison and straightened, now focused and serious. It was critical they found her. 

"I agree," interrupted Sarah, striding forward and planting her feet apart, finger pointing at the trio, which was followed by Gemima strolling up and saying, "So, yeah, how'd you hear?"

"Gregson messaged me. I needed to get the confirmation."

Sarah straightened herself, to the full extent of her 5ft frame, still slightly red-faced from her sprint down from Transfiguration. 

"Did Penny really moan out 'Percy' when she was sleeping in class?"

Adola calmly looked at her friends, clasping her hands behind her back. 

"Yes, she did."

Sarah cracked up laughing, tears running down her face, very quickly joined by the rest.

Thirty seconds later, she wiped her eyes, put on a serious face and said, "We got to find her. We don't have long."

..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Lunch lasted for one hour at Hogwarts, from noon to one. Following this, afternoon classes would start and Potions was the first class at quarter past one, with Professor Eleanor Snape, wife of the Severus Snape. Being late to her class was not smart. It was really not smart. While she was much openly kinder than her husband, she was as strict as him in regards to punctuality and in-class tomfoolery. It was seemingly the only similarity between the two, considering her general friendliness and penchant for big, cheerful smiles. Based off this, considering the byplay after class, them starting to laugh again after Sarah said we don't have long because Martina muttered, "Adola reckons Wood's broom is long," then composing themselves and planning, they had about 45 minutes. They needed to eat as well.

Adola sighed and walked towards the old Charms' classroom, with the others following along behind her, chatting. Penny generally went to three places when she was embarrassed. 

One: the Library. She could find an interesting book, focus on reading that, become absorbed then relax and pretty much brush of her initial shame. She was fairly hardy emotionally.

Two: the Lake. That was the least likely of the three, as Penny only went there when she needed to skip stones. Why she skipped stones was something Adola couldn't work out, as she was probably one of the more uncoordinated people in the world and the stones generally plonked and sank. The most skips had been four in five years. However, Penny only did that when she received a bad mark, which was generally under 88%. So, it didn't happen often. 

Three: the old Charms' classroom. Penny went there when she had embarrassed herself in class, such as calling the teacher Mum or Dad, accidentally burping or squeaking too loudly and the one time she had shifted in her seat and it had sounded like she had farted, etc. And in this case, moaning _'Percy' _while she had been sleeping, loud enough to somehow wake herself up. 

Adola leaned against the wall, shaking with laughter, before she managed to compose herself, breathe in deeply and start to walk forward once again. The time frame was critical, however. Unless they caught Penny before the class started, she would _not be embarrassed and blushing when she told them._ It was both hilarious and adorable when she did that. If they waited until later, she would regain control and tell them, except it would just be her saying something like, "_Well, I dreamt that Percy and I were really fucking going at it like animals and he was up in me. It was awesome! I came like no one's business!" _except probably slightly more articulately and less like a creep. So, it was critical they found her in time.

"Why was Penny sleeping in class?" asked Gemima suddenly, scratching her stomach, "she usually would never be caught dead dozing in class."

"Well, she was helping a couple of the second years with their homework, then when another one split their knee open, she took her to the Hospital Wing and hung around to make sure she wasn't too upset. Then when she came back, after going past the kitchens to get some ice cream for the girl, she realised she hadn't done her two hours study so she stayed up until one. Then this morning she had Prefect duties so she only had around four hours sleep," replied Sarah, yawning. "You know Penny, she needs at least six hours or she becomes sleepy." 

"Ah, that makes sense," said Gemima, "very Penny."

Adola shrugged and kept on leading them towards the room. In reality, they did want to tease her for the whispering '_Percy_' but also all just really wanted to support her a bit. The inevitable hilarity of her explanation was merely a very, very, very, _very _appealing garnish to the meal they were to receive. Adola quickly wiped her mouth and shuddered a bit. She was acting like Pervskines when Cha smiled at him. Suddenly, Adola jerked up and said, "Did any of you get eyes on Cha?"

"Oh, nah, she went off with her friends to have lunch. They were just giggling and moaning '_Percy_' like a group of dullards. The story will probably be around the school by tonight," reported Kumiko, who was holding hands with Martina, both skipping along.

"Don't worry. I'll organise a counter rumour that Wyvern wears turquoise panties and he'll be more than happy to oblige. He adores Penny and hates Cha. It'll be enough to take the Focus away. Not that everybody doesn't already know about Penny and Percy: just that Wyvern will probably just start wearing them to back it up. Don't want Penny to deal with other years muttering at her," stated Sarah, resident Slytherin and the Master of Damage Control. 

"Can't I just punch her in the head?" asked Adola, opening the door to the room.

"Yes, but... it's just so barbaric. Please, Addy, leave it to me," pleaded Sarah, "I can promise you Cha will be more annoyed by her trash rumour being overshadowed than you concussing her. You need brains and intellect to be harmed by head punches." None of her friends pointed out she was tenth in the year, while Cha was third. It wasn't the time nor place.

Penny was sitting by the window, face in her hands and almost glowing from embarrassment. It was a feast for the eyes; a veritable meal for her group of friends. Lunch was put to the wayside; this would, hopefully, be juicy.

"Oh, hello," mumbled Penny, as the girls filed in. "How did you find me?"

"Oh, we looked everywhere for you. We were just lucky," replied Adola, moving forward and carrying one of the tables over to the window.

"Oh, everywhere," chorused Martina and Kumiko, who had somehow obtained some soda and pumpkin juice. 

Gemima carried a couple chairs over and nodded, saying "Oh yeah, everywhere. It was crazy. Seriously, pumpkin juice? I still don't get how Magical folk think that's a legitimate drink. You might as well juice rhubarbs." Gemima, like Penny, was a Muggleborn and had already confided to her friends she was not ever fully assimilating into the Wizarding world. Sarah gave her a look and said, "Yes, everywh-pumpkin juice is amazing. It's better than that Irn-Bru stuff you drink."

"Oi, Irn-Bru is made of girders! It keeps you strong"-

"OH PENNY, SWEET PENNY" blurted out Adola, heading off the continual Irn-Bru/pumpkin juice debate that always popped up between the Muggleborn and Pureblood. Personally, pumpkin juice was rancid but so was Irn-Bru; however Adola was too smart to get involved in that debate. Instead, she swung forward grabbed her best friend and said, "how are you feeling? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Bothered? **Aroused**? Nauseous?"

"Sorry what? Arou"-

"Nothing. How are you?"

The drink argument stopped, all of the girls now leaning forward in anticipation. Gemima and Sarah cheeks were literally touching.

"A bit.. a bit embarrassed. Honestly. I-I had a bit of a dream."

"Oh, fuck yes," muttered Gemima, while Sarah rubbed her hands together. Adola shook her head quickly. Both then adopted 'sombre' facades.

"It is OK," said Kumiko, rubbing Penny's left shoulder.

"Yes," declared Martina, rubbing Penny's right shoulder.

"Tell us every detail," said Adola, grabbing her hands and lifting them up. She never thought in her life that Penny would have had a sex dream so she was very excited.

"It involved Percy and I and it wasn't really anything"- "No sweetie, from the beginning."

"OK. I was sitting down in the Library, doing the Herbology homework. I felt like I was a bit stuck on the section regarding the Maca plant and how it work as an...an aphrodisiac."

The girls leant closer.

"It was then that the door opens and I hear footsteps. I turn around and I see that Percy has entered the Library, wearing fully pressed dress robes with a tie in a crisp half Windsor knot." 

_'DON'T LAUGH, BITCHES,' _screamed Adola with her eyes. All parties nodded in agreement. 

"He said "Hello Penny, fancy seeing you here. What are you reading?" He walks over and placing one hand on the table and the other lightly on my shoulder. "Ah, the Maca plant. That's a powerful...._aphrodisiac._" Then he pulled out a chair and whispered "Can I help you study?" I then look at him, except I think my head was tilted down and I say, "I don't really need any help with the theory" and I grab his hand "but I need to do some more study for the practical." He then slowly started to undo his half Windsor knot and unbuttoned his top and I start to undo _my _buttons. Then, we're in Greenhouse One"- '**wait what**'- "and now he's got on his Herbology overalls, and so do I. I'm digging into the soil in the pot, preparing to plant the Maca, when he reaches around my waist my grabs my hands, breathe warm in my ear whispering "Let me help you with that." He intertwines his fingers with mine and pushes his body closer to mine"-'**better**'-"and helps me plant my Maca into the the pot. "You seem to have a lot of practical experience, Mr Weasley. Do you often plant your Maca in fertile soil?" He smirks and then whispers "I know my way around a Maca plant." I turn around, body trapped between him and the bench and he leans towards me"-**'fuck yes'-**"and says "Can I plant my Maca in your pot" I smile softly, lean forward and whisper "Of course." Then he backs away, goes to the pot and demonstrates perfect practical Maca planting technique, which is when I say "Oh, _Percy_, you really are top of your year. _OH PERCY_" and that woke me up."

Adola shook like an unbalanced washing machine, not that she knew what they were. She felt like her ribs would crack. Gemima and Sarah were silently crying with laughter, Sarah quite literally holding her face in her hands, just trying not to explode. Kumiko and Martina were still rubbing Penny's shoulders but were both shrieking with silent laughter. Martina was pointing to the roof and thanking God for the bounty she had received. Kumiko looked at Adola and mimed doing the clap and bow done after an offering to a shrine, albeit one handed. Penny looked at Adola and whispered, "Addy, what can I do? I've never had a dream like that? _How can I face Professor Erskine after I slept in his class, after disrupting it?_"

'_Oh you monster, do not make that earnest face after that story I'm about to choke to death here I think my ribs are going to crack think think something **AH'**_

"Penny," Adola wheezed, re-doubling the laughter of the rest of the girls, "Pervskine won't care. You are his best student. He will be fine. He probably enjoyed that 'Percy'; most of the guys did. He will be fine. I will go with you later. We can apologise together. The dream waspbbfft something that happens to girls and boys. Especially in our teen years."

"Addy, you're completely red. Are you OK?"

"Better than OK. Fucking elated. This discussion went better than anticipated. Dreams like that happen all the ti-ti-time."

"Oh, OK. Thanks for finding me, everyone. I was worried people thought I had been having inappropriate dreams about Percy. I don't want anyone to know I want to date him yet."

The effort and willpower to not crack into laughter would be able to overpower a hundred Imperius Curses, or at least it was how they felt. 

".........But the half Windsor knot was _really hot,_" muttered Penny, frowning at her hands.

The dam wall broke and laughter erupted around the room for a moment, just until Penny suddenly squeaked "_We're late to Potions_."

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

**Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Albus stood in front of the Mirror, smiling softly at the image of Ariana and Gellert, both smiling and talking together happily. 

Sighing, he broke his gaze and turned to Sirius and the Heads of House gathered in his office.

"Would you please explain why exactly we are required, Albus?" asked Severus, seated as far away from Sirius as physically possible. Both were pointedly ignoring each other. "Tonight is my turn to assist Marcus in his bedtime. I will not miss it." 

"Quite right, Severus. I appreciate you wouldn't call us here without reason, Albus but I feel the secretiveness with which you did so is, to an extent, suspicious," said Filius cheerfully, while looking Albus calmly in the eyes. His smile was genuine though his displeasure was palpable. Filius was a very forthright individual and had been strident in his belief that issues regarding the school needed to be shared with the entire faculty, not just the top level. It was a holdover from his ancestry as a river goblin, the least stratified of the goblin races. Saying that, he was still accepting that some secrets were necessary; they merely needed to be serious.

"Oh Filius, cheer up," said Pomona cheerfully, "you're just grumpy that you got woken up from your nap! I mean, that's the Mirror of Erised, I believe and Minerva has been silently disapproving Albus for the last five minutes. You need to do something with the Mirror and the Stone, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, we've got time! Oh, Sev, if you want to leave early, I'll fill you in later!"

"That's fine, Professor. I appreciate it."

Albus sighed and interlocked his fingers. Feeling the gaze of the teachers in front of him, he sighed. It was time to explain the plan and the recent complications.

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

The Heads of Houses all looked distinctly green at the end of the discussion. Severus, who had sent a message to Eleanor explaining he would be late, offered Firewhisky to Pomona, who nodded and thanked him. 

"Fuck," said Filius.

"Yeah, that's how James reacted," said Sirius. He groaned and shifted in his seat, grabbing the bottle from Pomona, "My take was more a "Fuuuuccck", not quite as succinct. But still, you heard the plan. As you know, we want to hide the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts within the Mirror of Erised and we need you to create puzzles to protect it. Obviously, we have the Mirror and we have the Stone, you all have created your protections. Only issue is: why the fuck did those people die in that goddamn building? Albus promised he would keep you informed of all everything; this is part of it. Now, it could be violent criminals being violent; it could be them overdoing drugs and breaking. Maybe they went stir crazy, a poker game went wrong and they started to attack each other. I don't know but I do care. Alastor fucking Moody looked me in the eye and said, "Yeah, it was bad." I've seen him literally face down a chimera and say it would be a slight challenge. The amount of criminals he has dealt with and this is bad? Kingsley pretty much told me he had never been that scared and he's fought fucking Evan Rosier, Artemis Fallow and fought the Iron Hide during the full moon. This scares him, more than the Iron Hide? More than Fallow? More than fucking Rosier?"

Sirius had stood up and glared around the room, now starting to pace.

"We need to consider all options for this. The key one is, could it be the Mirror? Is the Mirror dangerous? We lack information; it's one of the most mysterious, unknown Objects in the world. All we know is it shows desire and we know that, as you can attest, the people in that house were damn violent monsters. Did it cause that carnage?"

He stopped pacing, the rest of the occupants watching him calmly.

"I believe that the possibility that the Mirror may have caused this is not more pressing than the likely possibility of Voldemort obtaining the Stone. However, I am not a teacher here and I have no responsibility; hence, my opinion counts for shit. Albus is in support of it, with extra precautions. Minerva has told us she will still support the plan. It comes down to you three. The decision needs to be unanimous. If not, I will take the Mirror and Stone right away and hide them at Grimmauld Place. Only issue is, the amount of people with possible access is a massive security risk. Apart from that, consider me the messenger for the rest of the Order."

"Black, your stupidity is boundless," started Severus, glaring with disgust, "however, you...are not...wrong in this matter. We can manage the Mirror and are already planning to keep it quarantined away from the student body. It is very simple: I do not want the Dark Lord to return. When I turned on him, I gained his ire. The reason I am still alive is because the other members of that group know I am more than capable of killing them when they cross me. Additionally, I have the support of Hogwarts and Albus, along with your...triad, Black. Most of those who escaped punishment are either too smart to attack me or too weak to be a threat."

Severus leant forward suddenly, grabbing the arms of his chair.

"However, the LeStranges? Cleargold? Fallow? Podmore, that assassin? The rest of the Dark Lord's Children? They do not care about the politics or my position. They'd make me watch as they slaughtered my wife and child, then kill me. If I was in the school, they'd attack and maim, rape and torture the students, regardless of whether the Mirror or Stone had been kept here or not. The easiest avenue for them to escape is if the Dark Lord returns. I respect you may view this as me caring about my own safety but I can assure you: if I hid away and ran away and disappeared forever, those _things_ would still attack the school, just because I care about it. I am not taking that risk. I stand by the decision I made ten years ago but I will not pretend it was smart or without risk. We must take risks, even those unknown to prevent His return."

Severus grabbed the Firewhiskey and drank deeply, slamming it on his thigh when he finished.

"I know that after he made me watch as he killed my family, he'd let me _live._"

The silence following Severus' blunt, cold speech was heavy and thick, carrying on seemingly interminably. 

"I agree with Severus," said Filius, finally. He moved around his seat and said, "He Who Must Not Be Named already holds a grudge towards the Goblin people, due to the Goblin Renegades that managed to destroy some of his strongholds. He also holds great enmity to the deceased Lord Crush, due to his efforts in uniting the Goblin races against He Who Must Not Be Named, along with him leading the eradication of the Goblin's affiliated with Him. That doesn't even consider the simple fact that Severus' position would not be unique; there will be many other families, some with children here or who were taught here who will be easier to use as examples for betraying Him."

Filius stood up and sighed.

"Risking the students is not acceptable; unfortunately, the return of He Who Must Not Be Named is the exception."

"I support it as well," chipped in Pomona, sombre in her demeanour, "unfortunately, the Mirror could be dangerous but we can manage it somehow. In fact, it's possible that the inherent Magic present in Hogwarts could act as a slight suppressant, along with hiding it well away from any students. I would prefer to not create any unnecessary risk."

She then lightly clapped her hands together.

"This is necessary. However bad the Mirror is, we know Him and his followers are worse. No offense, Severus, we know you're a good chap."

The tension broke slightly and the members all looked at each other. Albus sunk down in relief, gratitude filling his heart. 

"I will organise the Mirror as soon as feasible. It may take some time but I believe this will be a great block to Voldemort's return. We have much to discuss. Feel free to ask for substitutes if you have any morning classes. I have already sent a message to Eleanor, Severus. She will give me an earful for having late night staff meetings tomorrow."

A light smattering of laughter spread around the room. The Heads of Houses and Albus then started to prepare.


End file.
